


the Cheese Dealer

by heibai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Fluff, M/M, an ode to my love for cheese, attempt at comedy idk, jeno's true love is cheese, sweet innocent children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-01-23 08:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12503228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heibai/pseuds/heibai
Summary: In a land without cheese, this is a tale of a Prince who loves cheese too much,and his cheese dealer.





	1. cream cheese

**Author's Note:**

> this story was started with the goal of making it into just a short 1k drabble but look what happened :))  
> inspired by a prompt from my dear quinnie aka asiannoodles and also inspired by (and a story to commemorate the glory that is) Jeno's silver hair, my Targaryen son

The Kingdom of Lumina is, just like its name, a bright and prosperous place. Ruled by a fair King and a benevolent Queen, every subjects under their protection were living a happy and fulfilling existence. Duty is a source of pride and chores do not feel like so when you know you’re doing it out of love and respect to the Realm.

 

Although, behind all the smiles and all the morning hums and afternoon songs, there _is_ something that a select group of people tried to hide from their beloved royal family. A secret. Words hushed about underneath the breaths of those who were brave and reckless enough to chase after this forbidden fruit.

 

In this particular evening, one hooded figure was clearly a part of said minority. He walked down the cobbled road, rotten boots clopping against ancient stones as the ends of his tattered cloak brushed against the corners of streets so familiar, they were akin to the lines etched on his palms.

 

It wasn’t until he saw the almost hidden sign of a tavern that he stopped on his tracks. Looking up, the dying sunray peeked from underneath his hood and revealed the hopeful face of a young man.

 

“I hope this will finally be the one…”

 

He slid the hood off of his head and walked into the tavern with poorly hidden sense of excitement. It was well past six, but the tavern was still buzzing with the last of their dinner crowd. People were talking with each others’ company and nobody noticed this unremarkable, brown haired man (boy, really) slipping into the establishment and taking the table at the far corner of the room.

 

“What can I get for you sweetie?” What seemingly was the owner of the tavern, a homely looking woman who could pass as the stranger’s grandmother, waltzed up to his table and set down a wooden cup filled to the brim with Lumina’s standard issue pale ale.

 

The strange boy didn’t wait to ask for what he wanted. The reason for why he was even there in the first place.

 

_Cheese._

 

And with just that one word, the smile on Mrs. Matronly was wiped. Her high brows were furrowed in concentration, and her lips were scrunched in the light of her curt noddings.

 

Her voice came out in a tone so serious you’d never expect it to come out of such a jolly looking woman.

 

“As you wish.”  

 

The stranger didn’t have to wait long before a small dish was presented on his table. The nice lady then proceeded to explain what it was in a hush-hush manner,

 

“This was cured for a month. As you can see the skin has formed perfectly. Thin yet firm, and the body should be soft. Rich. Delicious.”

 

Happy with the pitch, the stranger gave a satisfied nod to the lady and watched her saunter off to the bar area before he paid more attention to the food item sitting in front of him.

 

 _‘It’s the soft kind,’_ the stranger mused. He poked at the white rind and watched the inside of it oozing out like a pale yellow molten lava.

 

His informants hushed to him that this is the best they’ve found. The best one you can find in the Inner City, that is. And the stranger do hope that this one will live up to the expectation others have put upon it.

 

The expectation was not even high in the first place, as he still could remember that time when he had to excuse himself and literally threw up his lunch and breakfast at the back alley from how _disgusting_ the piece of moldy _thing_ tasted on his tongue.

 

But this one _did_ look different. It looked clean. It smelled clean. There was not even one patch of suspicious molding, whether it be green, blue, purple, or brown. None of the fuzzy growth or cracks running down the center like green veins of a decomposing corpse.

 

And so the stranger took one bite. Not hesitant, not overly enthusiastic, just one calm bite. He could feel the eyes of the owner of this tavern watching every single one of his chew, and the nagging gaze stayed there until he swallowed his bite and gave her a satisfied smile.

 

He could hear the faint congratulatory _‘yes’_ coming out from behind the bar, and only responded by looking down at the plate on his table.

 

The smile _did_ portray him to be satisfied with the taste of this food. This tiny, unsuspecting item so forbidden some daring idiots wouldn’t mind eating the kinds with mold growing on them.

 

But the stranger has tasted the real deal before. Once, in what he’d describe as the best few months of his life. He was once lucky enough to have the chance of witnessing servants breaking open a wheel of _it_ in front of him, the enticing smell causing his saliva to run out his mouth like waterfall. Its golden colour not unlike the most beautiful gold medallion. Its taste. Oh god its _taste._ He still found himself being woken up in the middle of the night after dreaming about getting to eat it one more time.

 

The thing sitting in front of him wasn’t all that bad, truthfully speaking. It tasted clean, light, slightly nutty. It didn’t make him wish for his death, unlike the more awful ones. But it didn’t come anywhere near the salted goodness he had in that banquet. The smell didn’t make him drool, it only reminded him of the smell of a mushroom farm. The colour was sad, the rind tasted bland. Those who recommended this place has surely never had their eyes opened, and thus he once again was left disappointed.

 

The young stranger hid the last piece up his sleeve before he stood up from his chair (because his mother had drilled it to him that he should never leave anything on his plate, as it is rude). He slipped a gold coin onto the hand of the kind matron and praised her skills before he ducked out to the streets of Lumina once more (because his mother told him to always appreciate the handiwork of his subjects, as it will make them love him more).

 

As he brought his hand down from securing the hood around his face, he noticed dried specks of brown dye followed along like muddled snow, and with a heavy heart, Crown Prince Lee Jeno decided it was time to return to the castle and to yet again start his search for the thing he longed most.

 

Cheese.

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

The King is deathly allergic to cheese.

 

And thus Kings being Kings, he made ‘banning cheese from the Kingdom of Lumina’ the first thing in his reformatory mandate once he inherited the Kingdom from his dear father (to be truthfully speaking, it was the twenty third item in the list, but the King has the tendency to indulge in hyperboles so almost _all_ of his mandates are usually regarded as _the first)._

 

Yes, the King is kind. Yes, the King is just. But banning a whole entire category of food from his Kingdom just because he was deathly (remember, he loves hyperboles) allergic to it?

 

It made little to no sense.

 

He even banished all the cheesemakers out of the Inner City. Commanding them (with much due respect, of course), to either get the first joint of all the fingers in their dominant hand chopped off, or find a new place to live.

 

Almost all of them chose the latter.

 

(Which probably explained why all the leftover backalley cheesemakers were so abysmal in their attempts at making cheese.)

 

Besides, they didn’t have to struggle to find a new place to reopen their shops and resume their trades, as the King’s brother accepted them to his land with open arms.

 

His brother’s land was soon known throughout the continent for its cheese. Hard cheese, soft cheese, smelly cheese, sweet cheese, anything. Even their parchment papers smelled like cheese. Which is why Jeno will always be the first person at the aviary to receive the letters from his dear uncle.

 

“You’re being too harsh on them, brother.” He’d always cap off his letters with those words, written from his ruling seat near the Grasslands, “they’re not as bad as you think they are.”

 

And Jeno agreed, sitting in his father’s study and holding the parchment paper which gleamed and smelled almost like the exterior of that dreamy hard cheese he tried during his last (and only) visit to the Grasslands, he couldn’t agree more.

 

But each time his father would only scrunch his nose in disagreement and absent-mindedly waved his hand to Jeno’s question that by now almost sounded mechanical from how often he’d say it. _‘Should I burn the letter outside father?’_

 

The King burned all of his brother’s letters not out of spite, but out of the sheer disgust he felt from smelling the scent emanating from the parchment. That was the reason behind why he would always ask Jeno to recite the words from the farthest point of his study. Only daring to come close when he briefly checked the authenticity of the letter while holding a heavily perfumed silk over his nose.

 

(The King suspected his _dear_ brother would rub a whole rind of cheese around every single one of his letter, just for the sake of annoying him. He wasn’t wrong.)

 

But for all of his power and knowledge and _knowledge_ (of secrets that he gathered from his ring of spies), the King managed to miss out on one of the most glaring fact. Which was Jeno’s obsession for cheese.

 

Although, Jeno must be given some accolades on his ability to show restraints, however much it bordered on blatant display of thirst for knowledge. His mother taught him well in regards of putting up a stoic act, and he would never be caught gushing over a hidden cheese recipe found in the library (his sole eyewitness being the equally excited librarian apprentice), or when he would share stories with senior servants about how cheese tasted like (but only behind the closed doors of the kitchen), and he would only ask his father a maximum of twice a month for when would be his next trip to the Grasslands because _‘he missed his cousin so very much.’_

 

“Is that so?” His father would ask Jeno when the Queen managed to drag him back to their family’s private quarters for a rare, intimate supper time, “you miss your cousin? I have to say, that is one of the strangest things I’ve heard all day.”

 

And Jeno would answer with the same thing everytime, while spooning whatever soupy-starchy combination the royal cooks have sent their way, “I’ve been writing to him father. He also misses me dearly.”

 

In all actuality, the content of their correspondence basically boiled down to _‘send me some of those cheeses. Just a cube, Donghyuk, I beg of you’_ and _‘don’t you think barring yourself from the thing you love most will only make the reunion that much sweeter? So no, I won’t smuggle to you any cheese. Besides, what if I got caught? I value my good graces to the King more than a cube of cheese.’_

 

Like father like son, clearly.

 

But no matter how good the King’s mood was, he would always give the same response to Jeno’s inquiries, “soon, son. Soon.” Then he would wipe his mouth with a napkin and retire to his study, leaving Jeno sulking at the table with nothing much to do but help his mother and the servants clean up the table.

 

( _“Why do you bother to tidy up after your meals? That’s a job for servants,” Donghyuk, his dear cousin, asked him when he saw Jeno staying behind to give his dirty plate to the cleaning lady after they had their dinner in his uncle’s grand halls._

 

_“My mother taught me. Said it’s the least I can do to lessen their burden,” he said after he nabbed a cube of cheese from the constantly replenished long table filled to the brim with amusing food items._

 

_“Shouldn’t acting nice to them be enough?”_

 

_Jeno only shrugged to that question and busied himself with filling the small plate he just picked with dried fruits and even more cheese. He just found out how delightful it is to mix and match different types of cheese with fruits, be it dried or fresh, and he was planning to experiment on them while lounging on his bed._

 

 _“Probably. It feels right to do it though.”_ )

 

Jeno felt his mother’s soft hand on his shoulder and he turned around to face her with a sigh escaping from his lips, “I’m sorry. I won’t bother him about it tomorrow.”

 

“I know how you feel about your uncle, my dear,” she said as she smoothed his unruly hair away from his creased forehead. She didn’t seem to notice the fact that his hair was damp, or at least if she did, she didn’t seem to suspect that it was anything odd. Jeno had to wash the brown dye out of his hair as soon as he arrived to his chambers, and didn’t have the time to let it dry before he was summoned for supper.

 

“But you also have to understand how your father feels about your uncle too,” she held his face in between her palm, trying hard to seek his gaze and didn’t cease to do so until he hesitantly gave her a nod, “and his position as the King, but you know. Duty. That is boring chat.”

 

She let him go, finally, when he gave her a genuine smile as a response to her attempt at lightening up the mood. But just as Jeno was about to ask to be permitted out from the hall, she pointed at the side of his hair, now glowing silver under the warm light of the hearth, and whispered to him, “you missed a spot dear.”

 

All he could do to counter that unforeseen attack was giving her a curt and embarrassed bow before ducking out of the door, and out of her sight, taking the stairs down to the castle’s archives because the sound of his mother’s laughter only served to make his face heat up even more so than before.

 

_ _ _ _ _

  


“How’s supper?” Minhyung looked up from the letter he was scribing only when he finished the sentence. Only when the dot on the parchment paper was dried did he avert his gaze to see Jeno huffing down on the small couch at the other end of the archives. He laughed when he saw the usually prim and proper prince discard all his pretenses and unravelled into a blubbering mess who hid his face in his open hands to let out a frustrated squeal.

 

“Didn’t go well, I assume.”

 

“My mothe- the Queen knows I’ve been sneaking out. I should be more careful.” Jeno said while fiddling with the culprit, the small patch of his hair still retaining that dastardly hard to wash brown dye. To be fair, he made it himself, with the help of his two loyal friends, of course, from cheap pigments and some mysterious oil. So it surely wasn’t as good as the ones he could find in his mother’s beauty dresser.

 

Talking of the devil, it wasn’t long before the last person comprising his ‘secret cheese enthusiast’ team popped out from one of the archives’ dreary stone corridors with his small trolley on tow.

 

“Jisung! Do you have any new information for me?” He flagged the young librarian in training and patted the empty space beside him on the couch.

 

But the good graces of his prince only made Jisung whine out with frustration, “I just gave you one yesterday!”

 

“Oh, the one in Springy Hop is bad? I won’t go there for lunch tomorrow if that’s the case.” Minhyung absentmindedly said as he’d gone back to concentrate on doing his job, the tail end of his quill dancing against the flickering light of candles on his wooden desk, “which is a pity. I’ve been looking forward to try _it_.”

 

“Oh no, you should still go there and try. It wasn’t _awful._ It’s just…”

 

“Not the one you’re looking for?”

 

“ _Exactly._ ”

 

Jisung seemed to enter a realm of deep concentration for a little while after he heard Jeno’s daily report. But it didn’t take him long before he did this little jump on his feet, something he always do everytime an idea pop up in his mind. And that meant he did it _a lot._

 

“There’s one more!” He then rushed to his desk, which, just like his trolley, was small and rickety. He fished a slip of paper from a tray of loose notes and handed it to Jeno, “I believe you haven’t tried this one.”

 

Jeno skimmed through the list of crossed out tavern names and zoned in on the last one, “Ports and Piglets…”

 

“I was not sure about recommending this to you because it’s located near the outskirts, but I heard they serve hard cheese.”

 

Jisung was still explaining some other things about how the place might’ve gotten a bit too popular for its own good, and how they might’ve attracted the attention of the royal guards, but Jeno’s ears were already enveloped by this high pitch buzz of excitement the moment he heard that this tavern specialised in _‘hard cheese.’_

 

“No need for any further information,” he said, springing out from his seat with so much power it managed to make Minhyung look up from his unfinished sentence.

 

“But I haven’t told you about the price,-”

 

“ _I’ll go there tomorrow.”_

 

__ _ _ _ __

 

Turns out, a _tomorrow_ for Jeno didn’t come until two full moons have passed. Blame his mother for forcing him to take up the mantle of a good royalty and thus having the responsibility to entertain some foreign emissaries’ children from sun up till sundown. Jeno wondered, why would they bring their children if they were here just to talk about boring treaties and such? Imagine how much things they could’ve learned if they were left behind in their respective castles.

 

“They’ve come a long way from the South, you _have_ to keep them company.”

 

“But mother they’re _seven!”_ Not to mention that these kids were little twin boys with a certain love for wooden swords and tales of the Old Knights. Jeno has passed that phase _so long ago_ and certainly was the last person willing to entertain these two wide eyes devils with their faux sparring sessions.

 

Oh, how much he wished that his baby brother would grow up a little quicker. Because then at least the Queen will no longer ask him to do silly, childish tasks. Maybe he’ll finally even be allowed to sit in the King’s inner council where he can _finally_ sway people’s opinion on _cheese._

 

But one emissary grew to two, then three, and before long Jeno found himself being the King of the Castle’s Nursery with paper as his crown. The fact that only two moons separated him from his sixteenth nameday served as further source of embarrassment. Jeno couldn’t believe it. He was an almost adult who could still be forced to play pretend in the nursery.

 

As if that wasn’t enough, Jeno had to constantly defend his title from a tiny Lady of the Coasts, who yelled at him that she is _‘the Queen of the Sea’_ before rallying her ‘troops’, which were just a collection of quilted bunny dolls, to steal his flimsy crown.

 

It was then understandable how relieved he felt when he could finally be free once more. Weaving his way on the winding alleys and turns of Lumina’s Inner City with the orange ray of the setting sun as his guide.

 

Technically, Jeno was still bound by his promise to his mother, because the last remaining children of the Coastal emissary still resided within the confines of the castle’s walls (it was the little Sea Lady and her younger brother, or more notably known in Jeno’s inner circle as the _Seaweed Siblings_ ), but he couldn’t care less. His mother promised them that they will have one last fitting session for their custom robes before their family head back to their castle on the sea. So it wasn’t as if anyone will miss him for not being there to play dress-ups with them.

 

He navigated the city with the help of a small slip of parchment on his hand with a really poorly drawn map (all courtesy to the hard work of Jisung) heading to the coveted tavern. _‘Ports and Piglets’,_ even if he’d memorised the name and could easily recite it in his sleep, Jeno couldn’t help but to obsessively read the tavern’s name again and again. Jeno has to admit, for a tavern residing at the outer edge of the city, the name has a _really_ glamorous ring to it.

 

Wasn’t long before he found the place, as it was clear that the tavern owners wanted everyone in the street (and even beyond) to know what establishment this short but skinny building housed. The sign stuck at the top of the building’s main entrance was made out of hollowed  metal sheet, shaped into the silhouette of a pig. The golden glow of candles danced from within the carved out holes that spelled out its name, creating a hypnotisingly enticing effect.

 

 _‘This is revolutionary,’_ Jeno found himself thinking, _‘I should tell father about this.’_

 

“Good evening!” A chipper young waiter has somehow, unknowingly materialised under Jeno’s nose, and it took all of his muscle memory collected from years of manners lessons to stop himself from cringing and jumping away in shock. _‘It’s rude to cringe,’_ he could hear it in his head, his mother’s teachings drilled to him from a young age.

 

Instead, Jeno gave the waiter a curt smile and requested a table for one, “preferably at the corners, if you’re kind enough to do so.”

 

“Are you here for the special of the night, sir?”

 

Jeno found it odd that a waiter would ask about his orders before they even set foot into the establishment, but he decided that to get what he sought for, he had no choice but to play along.

 

“Yes I am.” He topped it off by slipping a gold coin into the waiter’s front pocket. It might’ve been an over-reactiob stemmed from Jeno’s eagerness to show that he meant business. Lucky for him, said gesture seemed to be the correct thing to do, as the waiter shot him a knowing smile and nodded for him to come along.

 

“Won’t be a problem, good sir. Please follow me.”

 

And Jeno did follow him. With a small spring on his steps because _this might be it._

 

 _‘This might be the one!’_ He screamed, but only within the confines of his cranium, as he excitedly pull down the tattered coives (one borrowed from Minhyung because he was too tired from the hours of having to play pretend to whip up a batch of his off-brand paint) to make sure it completely covered the entirety of his un-dyed hair from people’s prying eyes.

 

The further they ventured into the surprisingly maze-like establishment, Jeno could _clearly_ see that there was a shift at the atmosphere. Going from a usual, dingy tavern that smelled of stale ale and illuminated only with cheap oil lamps, to suddenly morphing into what could’ve been considered as an upscale banquet hall with only one sharp turn. Perfumed air that smelled of roses, tinted glass lantern, the whole package. From there, Jeno noticed more and more familiar faces. Socialites, courtesans, High Lords and Ladies. Never knew he wasn’t the only person of great influence that took a great interest for _it_.

 

Yes. It. _Cheese._

 

Jeno finally accepted the reality, after taking one last turn before his waiter gestured for him to take the empty table at the corner of the room, that these people were really eating _cheese_. As in real, Grasslands grade cheese. There was not even an ounce of attempt to hide it. It was all there, out in the open. Were they brave or were they stupid?

 

He took a quick mental note of who these people were and how they, sitting inside this tavern and were carelessly ignoring the words of their King by eating cheese, might be of help for when he ever could grow to be brave enough to rebuke the King’s twenty third amendment.

 

“Give me _everything_ you have,” he said to the waiter the moment his bum hit the plush, velvety cushion of the well-decorated wooden chair.

 

The waiter must’ve lived through so much of these exuberant reactions that his demeanor didn’t change even after he heard Jeno’s order, still calmly setting down a cup of wine on the table before excusing himself to the kitchen with a small nod, “it won’t be long.”

 

And indeed, it wasn’t long.

 

Truly, if he’d learned anything through his stint of _‘seeking for the best cheese in Lumina’_ , it was that the longer a tavern took to serve him their cheese sample, the worse it’ll taste.

 

It only took _‘Ports and Piglets’_ less than a minute to serve up a platter, and it showed. Ooh bless the heavens it showed.

 

The waiter’s voice pierced through Jeno’s awe induced haze like a faraway lullaby. Melodious tune that calmly, confidently described each and every piece of heavenly salty nugget sitting on a humble wooden tray.

 

“First we have mild-tasting goatsmilk cheese. Always made fresh and delivered to us using the best preserving method. Next there’s an assortment of flavoured soft cheeses. Peppercorns, chilli flakes, chives, basil, anything your mind can dream of. And lastly a sharp, hard cheese that was aged for almost a year. Our best import from the Grasslands.”

 

Unlike how quick the cheeses were served up in front of him, it took Jeno quite a little while to process all the bombardment of revelations. It took him _so long_ , in fact, that by the time he averted his gaze from his wildest dream made corporeal, the waiter had started to look at Jeno with a little bit of concern in his eyes.

 

“How can I never heard of this place before?” Out of the sheer shock and disbelieve that were coursing through his veins, Jeno’s voice came out as just a touch louder than a whisper.

 

But it was more than enough volume to be picked up by his waiter, who Jeno predicted have learned to anticipate hearing those words coming out of every single one of his patrons because indeed, _how come it took me so long to find this place?! You didn’t understand! I almost died eating a botched attempt of some hack trying to make cheese next to the gutter!_

 

“We keep our secrets very close to our heart, good sir. We appreciate it if you’ll also do the same.” _(There was also the astronomical price of these barely-a-mouthful-morsels. We cater to the secretive. Those who grew up knowing how to keep their mouth shut.)_

 

After saying those wise words of wisdom, the kind waiter did one last bow before leaving what he must’ve think was one starstruck little village boy (who somehow scored big money) first cheese experience. But Jeno couldn’t care _less_ about how silly he must’ve looked, all misty eyed and shaking hands. _‘Finally. Finally we’re reunited oh my love, my cheese, my heart.’_

 

Although, Jeno should’ve been more aware, that true love will always be riddled with hardships. True love, sometimes, shall not ever be.

 

If only he paid more attention to the works of old poets, Jeno wouldn’t be as surprised for where fate decided to take him next.

 

The cube of hard cheese was just a hair length away from his awaiting mouth when he heard the most dreaded words of all his cheese-seeking adventure echoing through the luscious curtains serving as a thin veil that separated the cruel, cheese-less world with the dreamlike cheese-filled heaven.

 

“LUMINA CHEESE POLICE! EVERYONE SPIT OUT WHAT YOU’RE EATING!”

 

There was a brief moment of bizarre, deeply calming hush settling into the room as all culprits finished discerning the extent to what this situation might imply to not only their safety as a human being, but also their status in court. And then just like a kid accidentally blowing too much air into their pig bladder handball toy, everything bursted in a fit of chaotic order with secret wooden panels being thrown open, swishy petticoats acting like upturned frilly umbrellas, and wine flying through the air like speckles of rubies.

 

Turns out, three seconds were all it took to completely vacate the vast hall filled to the brim with such illegal commodities (cheese). And three seconds were also all it took for the cheese police to rip apart the _very_ nicely put together curtain and barge into the now empty hall.

 

 _Almost_ empty.

 

Jeno, poor clueless Jeno who have not even the littlest hint that patrons of _‘Ports and Piglets’_ were expected to have a quick get-away scheme, was _still_ sitting on his table, with his mouth _still_ hanging open, and the cube of cheese paused in the middle of its doomed journey.

 

There was another moment of calm when Jeno caught the eyes of his also all-too-shocked waiter and somehow, at that moment, he could hear his thought _and_ the waiter’s thought just as clear as if someone were to scream the word right to his own ears.

 

_‘The kitchen.’_

 

Maybe it was his sword training. Maybe it was his equestrian training. Maybe it was luck. But Jeno proved to be agile enough to dash out of the room and in through the kitchen door before the cheese police even managed to shout out the start of their detaining orders.

 

And at that moment, outrunning both the concept of chaos and the human thought process as Jeno dashed across of the poorly lit kitchen with the police in his tail, his mind calmly reminded him that, _‘in the case of bear attack, you don’t have to run faster than the bear. You just have to make sure you run faster than the person next to you.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you felt a sort of deja vu while reading this, I posted this story on my second aff account  
> long story short, I'm tired of waiting and yes this story is 100% mine.  
> oh and that one waiter is Chenle LOL
> 
> ps: hmu on twitter [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil)


	2. squeaky cheese curd

After spending fifteen minutes running up and down the hills and drops of the city, Jeno finally felt safe enough to give himself some much needed breathing moment. And he decided that in a pinch, a brick wall should suffice as a surface to rest his pounding head on. A damp, moldy brick wall, hidden within a deserted small alley so deep in the middle of the city even the sheen of the moon and the light from the main street looming above him felt like they were dulled.

 

Jeno managed to lose the cheese police, cleverly using the maze-like backdoor of Lumina’s Inner City to confuse the life out of what was essentially just an overpaid, underdeveloped, and useless section of the royal guards.

 

He surprised himself with that sudden thought brought about by his exhaustion and annoyance for not even getting the chance to try his beloved hard cheese. The sliver of hate that showed up inside his heart, the same heart who’ve spend all its life beating through lessons of how he should always respect the people who’d swore their entire life to maintain peace and order in this Kingdom. In _his_ future Kingdom.

 

“They’re just doing what they were told to do,” he mumbled, over and over, like a mantra that served as both a reminder and a consolation for that feeling of disappointment that was threatening to spill over.

 

He did manage to quell in that tiny buds of tears from spilling over the corners of his eyes (because a Prince should not cry, mother said, _at least not in public)_ , but he found that something else spilled over.

 

Something else was spilled, over _him._

 

In his panic of trying to find a safe spot to hide, Jeno didn’t realise that the rotting plank of wood poorly fastened above him was _not_ just a plain plank of wood that was poorly fastened on a similarly rotting brick wall.

 

It was a covering for a window.

 

And _someone_ has just swung said covering open to thrown some murky _liquid_ to what they must’ve thought as an empty back alley.

 

The little scream that the inconsiderate person let out when they noticed that someone was sitting right on the dumping path of their liquid waste was almost drowned by Jeno’s deafening inner reminder that _‘they were just doing what they were told to do.’_

 

Before Jeno was able to haul himself away from the crime scene, because he was so not in the mood of dealing with anything as hassling as having to reassure someone that he’s totally fine with being dumped with kitchen waste (he knew it was kitchen waste, as he suddenly smelled like sour milk and chicken bones), he was jumped on by the culprit. A young boy, no older than ten and four, Jeno guessed, who albeit was scrawny looking and bordering to being ghostly thin, was powerful enough to anchor the two of them on the spot with an endless, haphazard attempt at apologising.

 

“I’m so sorry!”

 

Jeno probably heard that phrase being sobbed thirty times in the span of ten seconds, spat out of the window dumper’s mouth in record speed as a kitchen rag was pattered all along the huge wet patch on Jeno’s cloak. A futile gesture, really. They both knew the only way the stain could’ve been cleaned was by washing it.

 

But as Jeno had somehow lost Minhyung’s horrifyingly ugly coives somewhere in the middle of his foot chase (not saying that he deliberately did that to get rid of the god forsaken thing), he could only clutch his fingers around the hood of his cloak, pulling it down to his forehead as he tried to reassure the boy that, “it is alright, honestly. Please. It’ll be alright.”

 

Though no matter how much Jeno tried to be nice and put this anxious wreck at ease, what put everything to a halt was when a booming voice blasted out of the open window like the sound of a canon going off.

 

“HUANG RENJUN WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

 

In the span of five seconds several things happened in quick successions.

 

One, Jeno realised from the panic that seeped into the wide eye of the boy standing in front of him, as if what he previously had was not enough panic to last for a lifetime, that the owner of this voice was not someone to be reasoned with. It was someone whose _‘No’_ means _‘No’_ , and _‘give me your cloak so I can wash it’_ means _‘give me your cloak so I can wash it or I’ll rip it off your shoulders with my bare hands.’_

 

Second, the boy, being almost one head shorter than him, finally averted his attention from Jeno’s cloak which he’d been so fixated on, and _finally_ saw the true extent of who the person hiding under that hood was. Because however hard Jeno tried to hide his silver hair, it was _silver,_ for goodness sake. In the world where everything was colored in a humble earthen hue, the bright sparkle of the most defining trait of Lumina’s royal family members will surely take just a little less than one second to spot. The boy soon found out that he had to quickly add up shock and horror into the cocktail of emotion swirling around his facial expression, when his mind managed to connect the dots and realisation dawned on him as brightly as a sun in a Summer’s morning.

 

And finally, third, Jeno found himself juggling the damp kitchen towel in his hands after it was tossed to him by the scrawny looking boy, after he hissed to Jeno and ordered him to, “tie it around your head.”

 

The boy, Renjun, his name if Jeno’s ears didn’t failed him, went on to quickly peek his head in through the window and yelled back with as much force as the voice that came before, “I DIDN’T KNOW THERE WOULD BE SOMEONE SITTING UNDERNEATH THE WINDOW MAMA!”

 

The boy’s mother went on to yell about how she already told him a million times to not throw the whey water out the window and how he should never assume because it makes an ass out of you and me and everyone else that’s involved in the scene, but all those things only came in through Jeno’s right ear and out through the left. Because he found himself trying so hard not to laugh when the boy quickly jumped on his feet with his hand clasped over his mouth, as if he just remembered something dire, and went down into a very awkward and disjointed bow.

 

“I forgot, I completely forgot… oh goodness, Your Grace, I mean, please tie it around your head, Your Grace. You wouldn’t want my mama to know, she’ll have a heart attack and I still need her to be around, Your Grace. Oh dear what am I talking about…”

 

“What is it that you wouldn’t want me to know, hm?”

 

Jeno didn’t know who this Mrs. Huang is, but all his laughters were sucked dry just by seeing her standing with both her hands on her hips. Her imposing presence standing by the window, its rickety build paling in comparison to her full figure. She even caused the old building to seemingly let out a groaning shudder. He then instantly knew he’d have to use all his past diplomatic lessons to make sure that everyone goes out of this encounter with all their souls intact in their respective bodies.

 

But as he was a child first, and Heir Apparent second, Jeno found himself unable to remember anything useful to diffuse the situation. Even worse, he couldn’t do anything more but stare ahead with childlike fear and guilt in his eyes. Because the situation he found himself trapped in perfectly mirrored that one time when he was five, when the Queen found out he broke one of his mother’s heirloom vase during one of his wild make-believe sessions and became _so_ mad it caused him to cry endlessly for three days straight.

 

In the end, there were two deers standing frozen in that deserted back alley, and however hard Mrs. Huang tried not to (because dear lord did she desperately need her Renjun to grow at least a smithereen of backbone to keep himself upright), she instantly took pity of them.

 

“All right… come in,” she finally sighed, both her arms dropped to her sides in defeat as she signalled her boy to bring the stranger, the victim of his carelessness, inside. “Come in you lot, come in.”

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

  
  
If Renjun was a mouse in Jeno’s eyes, then Mrs. Huang was a rat.

 

But not just any rat.

 

You know, those rats that are almost as big as a fat kitten, with eyes red as blood and fur as dark as the night and whose appearance will make any loyal kitchen cat run away in fear?

 

Okay, maybe she was not _that_ menacing, but she sure was chatty as the most chittery rodent.

 

She ushered Jeno in, saying apologetic words and deep condolences intermingled with reprimanding words directed to her poor son, who could only silently follow along with his skin so pale it took the colour of rancid milk.

 

“Please forgive my son, dear, you must be so tired from your travels already,- look what you did! This good sir’s travelling cloak is now all dirty and stained,- you’re not in a hurry to be at your next destination, are you?”

 

“No, no the Inner City _is_ my final destination. I’m planning to stay here for a little while,” as he was plopped down on a rickety wooden chair in the family dining room, Jeno forced out an amicable smile and tried to warmly reassure Mrs. Huang that everything was fine, while still maintaining the _‘good traveller’_ facade that everyone seemed to hole him into, “and this cloak is a sad old thing, don’t worry about it, please.”

 

“Darling,” her previously high-pitched voice suddenly went out as a low hum, and that sudden change in tone was accompanied with a firm hand placed on Jeno’s arm, the force it held secretly saying something in between _‘trust me’_ and _‘don’t you even dare refuse’_ , “I insist. I’m the best laundress in this street. I can make your sad cloak happy.”

 

There was a beat of silence that followed, in which Jeno caught the gaze of Mrs. Huang and her smile that screamed of, _‘now give that damned cloak to me.’_ To that, finally, he relented. He found it magical that Mrs. Huang didn’t question him for the fact that he was wearing a piece of rag coming from her own kitchen around his head, but he guessed it was because she was so preoccupied with the poor state of the garment of his.

 

He could feel the itching in her hands to set right all that’s wrong on his battered cloak (which, to be fair, was salvaged from one of the castle’s abandoned storage rooms, so it surely was in need of a lot of attention), when she folded it up in her arms with timed precision. At least Jeno could rest assured that his cloak was in good hands. What worried him, at that moment, was not the well-beings of his cloak. Not even the fact that it was already well past sunset and he was still stuck in the middle of the Inner City, not sitting prim and properly inside his room at the castle.

 

He was worried for the well-beings of the young boy who looked like he was about to puke his innards out when Mrs. Huang yelled at him, from what Jeno deduced was their laundry room, to serve the traveller the _thing_ he’d spent all day making because the traveller must be tired and hungry.

 

“Mama!” He yelled back. More like, yelped back. The voice that came out of his closed up throat sounding exactly like a chirp of a tiny kitchen mouse, helpless in the face of his gigantic rat friend, “you can’t… you can’t just… _do that._ ”

 

The boy then scuttled his way to where his mother was, while giving a long wary glance, and a short awkward bow, at Jeno on his way there. Unfortunately, however hard he tried to make his voice as quiet and hushed as he could, the brick walls in his house are criminally thin. Also, his mother didn’t seem to get whatever was the reason for him to be so afraid, and thus spoke in her usual booming voice.

 

So their conversation travelled. And Jeno only sat there in the dining room, watching his thick shadows dancing on the floor that glowed a soft orange sheen from all the tiny oil lamps illuminating the room with two things happening inside his brain. One, his fervent sense of curiosity told him to try to listen to the domestic feud happening just one porous wall of bricks from him. And two, his common sense was contemplating on the idea that he should just run off to the night and leave everything behind.

 

He caught little bits of _“you are the one who wanted to make them in the first place, this is your chance to test it out!”_ followed suit by a quiet hush of _“but mama we don’t know if he’s okay with_ it, _you know, what if he… what if he’s not okay with… with_ it _?!”_

 

Yes, Jeno is a curious person, but even curious people could become suspicious of certain situations. Especially when they saw the tips of a bright red flag floating in the wind.

 

He felt slightly guilty thinking this, but it was inevitable, _‘this family is weird.’_

 

Too weird for his liking.

 

Not saying that his family is normal when compared to them, but the intensities that each of them were capable of showing in such a short amount of time caused Jeno’s wall of cautiousness to be slowly brought up.

 

What is it that a boy, living inside what essentially is just a hole in a wall, could make to cause him such anxiety? Poison? Are they serial killers who target lost travellers? Luring them in with promise of hospitality only for them to die after eating a poisoned pie. Maybe the boy became so terrified because he knew he will have to poison the Crown Prince of the Kingdom in order to appease his mother. Maybe, it was time for Jeno to run.

 

But then he heard it. Unmistakably clear because the word was said in Mrs. Huang’s loud and perfectly enunciated voice.

 

“It’s just cheese, Renjun. _Cheese_. Everyone and their mama knows all the commonfolks are always in the search of good cheese. What’s his reason not to be one of them, hm?”

 

 _‘Oh,’_ Jeno found himself thinking and mouthing his thought all at the same time, _‘it’s just cheese.’_

 

There goes his desire to run.

 

Besides, he also heard a fleeting confirmation from Mrs. Huang, saying _“have some confidence in what you’ve made,”_ and something in the line of, _“yours is delicious,”_ (and if he needed to trust someone, he’ll trust whatever it is that Mrs. Huang said), before the boy got shoved out of the laundry room and back into the space he shared with what he must thought was his free, fast tracked ticket to the guillotine.

 

“Did you hear… everything… Your Grace…?”

 

Jeno didn’t say anything to that question, but it was clear that the boy knew that he heard _everything_. If before his skin was already so pale because of his fear, by then he could’ve been considered as being transparent. And Jeno could tell that if it was possible, the boy would’ve wanted nothing more than to be transparent at that very moment.

 

A little sway on his feet made Jeno think that the poor little mouse was just about to faint from the lack of oxygenated blood running inside his brain. But no. Turns out, his mouse acted just like all mice do. They’re resilient. A little shock will not cause them to flop over and die. No.

 

A little shock was all it took for the boy to scurry his way back to Jeno’s side, before he immediately dropped himself to his knees and begged. _Begged_ for all that he was worth for, which, as told by the tiny unreined voice at the back of his head, would’ve amounted to barely nothing to a royalty like him. But nevertheless, he ignored that rogue opinion and listened.  

 

“Please, please oh my god please don’t take my mama away Your Grace, please, I beg you. She didn’t know, she didn’t know you’re _you,_ Your Grace. She doesn’t know anything about it, it was all my fault, I risked it all and she has nothing to do with _anything_ , it was all my fault Your Grace. Please, please, pleaseplease _please_ ,-”

 

As panic is a type of emotion that could easily jump from one host to another, Jeno himself had started to feel a little bit of the boy’s tension, and he felt conflicted. Maybe even _terrible._ Seeing someone be so terrified for their life, as they were _begging_ you for their life. Because in the person’s eyes you’re the sole person that could decide whether or not they’ll survive to see another sunlight rising over the horizon.

 

It truly was a peculiar feeling.

 

In his effort to calm the boy down, Jeno found himself slipping off the chair and joining him on the floor. He tried everything to reel the boy back, even if just a little bit because one, Jeno was really worried that this time the boy will really faint because he forgot how to breathe, and because truthfully, the boy has nothing to worry about.

 

“Hey, hey listen to me, Renjun, isn’t it?” His words were just a hush peeking in between all his calming shushes. After seeing that his usual barrage of formal reassuring words fell to deaf ears, Jeno decided to just shed off his royal pretences and address him just like how he would address any of his closest friends, “you don’t have to worry. I’m being truly honest, nobody is going to take you or your mother away. I’m serious. I won’t tell on you to anybody, can you hear me? I won’t. I promise.”

 

“You promise?” There was this small window of clarity, when the boy’s mind was not fogged by his fear and panic in the face of who he previously must’ve thought as an omnipotent heavenly deity, basically. When he seemed to somehow manage to forget who he was talking to, looked up with his eyes all teary and puffed, and saw Jeno to be in the same playing field as he would have seen every other commonfolks that came to his mother’s laundry and talked to him on a daily basis, “you _really_ promise?”

 

But the window was closed as quickly as it was opened when Jeno told him, “yes, I do. Besides, just a secret between you and me, _I love cheese._ ”

 

Renjun was suddenly looking at him as if his skin had suddenly turned green, “but… Your Grace, you’re the Crown Prince…”

 

“What does that have to do with me liking cheese or not?”

 

“Your papa,- the King, I mean… Isn’t cheese like poison for him?” The boy said as he plopped himself down on the ground. Maybe after feeling the easing of tension between the two of them, Renjun decided that he no longer needed to be on his knees and sat down on the floor with his legs casually folded over one another. He wiped the tracks of tears running down his cheeks and it caused his voice to be muffled and distorted into what Jeno thought was the most quaint, mouse-like noise he’d heard coming out from the boy throughout the length of their chaotic meeting, “I thought because it’s like poison to him, then it’s like poison to everyone in the royal family, and that’s why the King doesn’t want it in his Kingdom.”

 

“Allergy is not hereditary, it’s not passed through bloodline! I know it! Jisung told me about it once.”

 

Yes, Jeno remembered the day when he came running to the castle’s library not long after he got home from his adventure at his uncle’s. An epiphany hit him in the middle of his riding lesson and he hasn’t even changed out from his riding clothes when he immediately rushed to find Jisung, or Minhyung, whichever one of them was free, Jeno didn’t care. He was curious as to why his father could not eat cheese (could not even stand staying in the same room as it, even), but he and his uncle’s family members could? How could his father hate cheese so much while he thought it was the best thing ever invented by humans? (aside from self heating bathtubs, that is)

 

Jisung, after asking Jeno to slow down a little bit so he could hear what his question was, requested to be given a day or two to answer Jeno’s question, and quickly sent him back up to his room because he didn’t want the library to smell like horse dung.

 

Two days later, there it was. On his bedside table, a thick scroll explaining how genetics work, written in such simplified language it didn’t take long for Jeno to read everything before the servants came in to serve him his breakfast.

 

“So, unlike hair colours, cheese allergy is not passed down from parents to their children. Well, Jisung said sometimes they do, but most of the time they don’t. Do you understand?” Jeno spent the last minute or so relaying the information found within the scroll to Renjun, at least what little he remembered, in the hopes that the boy would lose his belief that a Crown Prince is not allowed to like cheese. It wasn’t something that he urgently needed to do (finding a way to go back to the castle should’ve been his priority), but for some reason Jeno will always feel this nagging itch inside his brain that will only go away if he’d set things straight in regards to how other people viewed his love for cheese. And by other people, it meant everyone else but the entirety of Lords and Ladies in Lumina’s court and his parents, of course.

 

Jeno was hoping that the boy would at least give him a nod or something, as a way to show that he understood. But Renjun only looked at him with furrowed brows and squinted eyes, as if he was suspended in the middle of his confusion and won’t ever wake up if Jeno didn’t shake him out of his stupor. “Never mind that,” he sighed while waving his arm dismissively, “now then, can I try your cheese?”

 

After hearing that request, Renjun’s squinted eyes were immediately blasted open and Jeno could once again see the slivers of panic taking hold of his eyeballs, making it ever so slightly quiver and shake while his eyelids blinked like loose curtains on a windy day.

 

“Please?” The boy’s gaze rapidly darted from Jeno’s pleading eyes and his hand, who was squeezing Renjun’s own with palpable urgency. If before Renjun was the one who is begging, it was Jeno’s turn to do so. Begging for all that he was worth for. And in Jeno’s case, he knew it was going to be a far easier ordeal for him as it didn’t take long before Renjun let out a defeated whimper and pushed himself up to his feet.

 

“I guess… It won’t be long, Your Grace,” he mumbled, before his body once again lurched forward in a terribly unpolished bow. Weirdly, instead of feeling sorry, or pity (or god help him, _disgust_ ), Jeno found himself having to stifle an endeared smile as he answered Renjun’s bow with a polite nod.

 

Well.

 

If Jeno stood by his theory of _preparation time : taste_ ratio, then compared to any other cheeses he’s tried in his time of searching for that one true cheese, this _‘hole in the wall’_ cheese should taste the best.

 

Because not even fifteen seconds have passed before Renjun was back with a clay plate clutched firmly on his hands.

 

Although he was quick in retrieving the food item, Renjun prolonged the process by only standing idly at the entrance to the dining room, a few arms length away from Jeno who was still sitting on the floor, fiddling with his fingers and gnawing on his lower lips like a human personification of the feeling of anxiety, “what if this kills you, Your Grace,”

 

Jeno waved Renjun’s worry away with one simple hand gesture, “trust me, I’ve tried worse,” and he invited the boy to get a little bit closer with another simple hand gesture. A simple flick of his wrist that was enough to make Renjun running to his side as if he was a well trained, royal squire.

 

Seeing the radical reaction it caused on the boy, Jeno made a mental note to never do that gesture _ever_ again.

 

He took a peek to the plate and on it was two humble pale yellow rectangle. Under the yellow cast of the oil lamps, it even looked almost _white._ Also, saying that it was a rectangle was a stretch, really, because they were more lumps than anything else. _‘Soft cheese,’_ Jeno internally sighed his disappointment after he finished his initial observation.

 

“I’m so sorry for the… the sorry shape of the cheese, Your Grace. I didn’t leave it to drain long enough this time. That’s why it looks kind of… sad.”

 

Jeno agreed with everything Renjun said but being the nice ruler-in-the-making that he was, Jeno masterfully masked his disappointment with one of his preset amicable smile, “from my experience, the appearance of something doesn’t always correlate with its taste.”

 

_‘Although, well, having a good presentation wouldn’t hurt if we’re talking about edibles…’_

 

The lump of cheese was soft and pliable under his fingers when he tried to pick it up, slightly coarse due to the specks of salt dusting its surface. From the times he spent reading up about it, and hunting it down in the thicks of Lumina’s Inner City, Jeno had considered himself one of the more (if not _the_ most, if he’s taking into account that he was born _after_ the cheese ban was set in place) knowledgeable person in regards of cheese in the Kingdom of Lumina, but he honestly never seen a cheese that looks like this.

 

A cheese that looks more like sweet egg roll than cheese. How peculiar.

 

As he was bringing the piece of cheese to his mouth, Jeno couldn’t help but notice the sparkle of hopefulness in Renjun’s gaze, even if it was slightly smothered with the more evident sense of fear and panic. He was leaning in, ever so slightly, hands clasped together in front of his mouth as he waited in anticipation for Jeno’s reaction.

 

And what a reaction he got.

 

Or more accurately, what a reaction he _didn’t_ get.

 

Jeno took a modest bite out of the cheese and a frown was instantly formed on his face. One chew, two chews… the more chews he took, the deeper his frown became. The texture of the cheese was so unlike any other. It wasn’t creamy, it wasn’t dry, it was _chewy._ It was as if he had a piece of cow innards in his mouth, only that this was proving to be an overall much more enjoyable experience. The initial hit of the salty surface caught him off guard, but it quickly melded together with the core of the cheese to create the perfect combination that brought out the natural savouriness of the milk.

 

The room was heavy with anticipation and it was silent, if not for the faint sound of water running coming from Mrs. Huang’s laundry room, and the dampened sound of the chittering of mice.

 

The problem is, that high pitched sound was coming from _within_ Jeno’s mouth.

 

“This is… so unlike what I’ve eaten before. It’s soft cheese but it’s… it’s chewy _and_ delicious?” Jeno wondered aloud after he finished chewing his second bite on the mysterious type of cheese, “what is this?”

 

And he noticed, after Renjun let out a long sigh and proceeded to gulp in a big inhale, that the boy had been holding his breath for the duration of the tasting, “I don’t know.”

 

Jeno swore he slightly choked on a tiny piece of cheese when he heard that answer coming from Renjun, “-, what do you mean you don’t know?”

 

Renjun jutted his index finger up as a sign that he was asking Jeno to wait for a little while, before he scurried off to god knows where. Jeno could hear the sound of metal utensils bouncing against each other, then against the floor, followed suit by the yell of Mrs. Huang to _‘keep it down, don’t make a mess in front of our guests.’_

 

When he was back as Jeno’s audience, Renjun was holding a tiny book. Bound in tattered leather who’d lost all its glory through years of being stored carelessly, the edges of its paper were yellowed and all chewed up from fingers rolling through it one too many times, or from the teeth of many little critters.

 

The boy flipped through the pages and stopped on one who looked even _more_ pathetic than the rest. It was clear from how the ink on the paper was almost rubbed clean from the surface, that the page has seen a lot of love and attention given to it.

 

When the book was essentially shoved to him, Jeno eagerly took it from the boy’s hands and quickly scanned the content of the page. Or to be more exact, the _recipe_ written on the page.

 

“Is this a cheese recipe book?” He asked with a lot of poorly masked enthusiasm sprinkled within his voice. When Renjun nodded in affirmation, Jeno could feel his fingers starting to tremble because, _‘oh my god cheese recipe book cheese recipe book CHEESE RECIPE BOOK.’_

 

“How did you get your hands on this?” Because not even the castle’s library held one after the great cheese recipe purge that the King mandated to be done alongside with his cheesemaker purge out of the Inner City. If he was not mistaken, the reward for turning over a copy of anything related to cheesemaking is twenty gold coins. Seeing that this just barely-scraping-along family was still stubborn enough to hold onto a copy of theirs must’ve mean that cheesemaking is something very dear and close to their heart.

 

“it’s my papa's.” True enough, Renjun’s answer confirmed his suspicion. “I never knew him, Your Grace, never even seen his face. But… with this at least I can sort of know who he was.”

 

And Mr. Huang was a cheesemaker, the boy told him. Could make any sort of cheese asked to him by his customers. Recipe from the East, recipe from the West, soft, hard, creamy, sweet, anything. The most popular cheesemaker on the street they live in.

 

“Was that how your parents meet? Did the most popular cheesemaker fell in love with the most popular laundress?” Jeno interrupted Renjun’s tale with a lighthearted jab, which he was glad he did, because it brought a smile onto the boy’s face that was previously ridden with dark clouds of melancholy.

 

Looking back down to the recipe book, Jeno traced the tips of his fingers through the list of ingredients and cooking steps, all written with such little regard on clarity and repeatability. It was more akin to reading the absent minded thought of someone who’d mastered the art who was only jotting down some extra footnotes so that they wouldn’t forget the more measly aspects needed to create the perfect cheese. And indeed, upon rereading it Jeno noticed the lack of name on that particular recipe of the cheese he just ate.

 

On the top of the page there was only the drawing of a what he could only deduce as the backside of a pig. Just a circle with a pigtail tacked onto it in poorly drawn scribbles.

 

“You can understand all this?” He asked, to which Renjun answered with little enthusiastic nods of his head. The smile on his face read of _‘proudness’_ , and for the first time in their short time together, he didn’t look in the least bit afraid of Jeno. “But you were born after the banning…”

 

“Yes I was,” he once again nodded with his smile slowly bloomed into a bright grin.

 

“So you learned to understand all of these yourself… intuitively.”

 

 _‘This is amazing,’_ Jeno thought, _‘a breakthrough finding.’_ No back alley cheesemakers so far has been able to perfectly replicate the fading memories of cheese recipes with just pure instinct. That was what a missing generation would’ve resulted in, Jeno theorised, botched attempts at blindly trying to rethread a misty, unknown path. And he was sure even if they do have concrete recipes in their arsenal, it would’ve looked like this. Practically a gibberish to those who didn’t already have a strong base in cheesemaking knowledge. But to know that this boy was able to do so, even without being old enough to ever taste a legitimately made cheese in his life? ‘ _It’s borderline miraculous.’_

 

Imagine what he could do if he has access to one of the hidden, well written cheese recipes in the castle’s archives. An excited shiver ran along the length of Jeno’s spine just with him having the thought of the uncharted possibilities of it all.

 

“Yes I did, intwee… intwitee… intueeti,-”

 

“In-tu-i-ti-ve-ly,” this time, Jeno was too caught off guard by the delight that was Renjun’s attempt at saying a complicated word that he allowed himself to giggle his way through him slowly spelling out the word’s syllables to this eager student of his, “it means that it all came naturally to you, without need of mentors or tutors to hold your hands through the process.”

 

Jeno took another bite on the squeaky cheese and along with it came another smile. He could hear the chirps of mice with each chew and he thought, if only Mr. Huang could see how his son looks when he’s all grown up, he wouldn’t have drawn the backside of a pig on top of his squeaky cheese recipe, he would’ve drawn a mouse.

 

“It’s all done! Now we just have to let it hang and dry.” Like the wind of Autumn suddenly picking up and rustling all the fallen leaves from the ground, Mrs. Huang barged out of her laundry and shook the calm atmosphere of the dining room, proudly holding up Jeno’s freshly washed cloak with both of her hands.

 

“I… never knew that cloak is actually beige…”

 

“Beige?” Renjun asked while he looked up to Jeno with a dazzled expression, not unlike a puppy staring at his owner, waiting to be thrown a treat. Jeno never thought he’ll ever find another person who regards knowledge as a treat just as much as he (and Jisung, and Minhyung too) does.

 

“That’s another name for light brown,- Mrs. Huang! Your son makes really great cheese!” Jeno said as he propelled himself to his feet. His movement almost made it look like he was jumping around in joy, something that his father would least like to see a fifteen years old Crown Prince do. But as this was an ordeal tied so closely to cheese, Jeno couldn’t care less what his father might’ve thought. Besides, at that hidden place, he was not Lee Jeno, Lumina’s Heir Apparent. He was just a lone traveller, with a cloak so dusty he always thought it was made out of darkly tanned leather.

 

“Oh, does he really?!”

 

The way Mrs. Huang looked at Renjun was like a mixture of _‘I told you so’_ and pride, all balled up in a smile so loving, and motherly, and pure in its intention that it even caused Jeno to get a little bit choked up, “I thought so too.”

 

From his periphery, Jeno could see Renjun trying hard (but failing) to use the cheese recipe book to hide the act of him wiping the budding tears of overflowing emotion. But Jeno decided to ignore that and instead approached Mrs. Huang to retrieve back his cloak. It was getting _way_ too late that he was surprised he hasn’t heard the sound of the castle’s bells chiming across the darkened streets of the Inner City.

 

The bells only ever chimed on 4 occasions. Birth, death, coronation, and _‘Prince Jeno has gone missing’._

 

“No.” Her curt response came completely out of nowhere that it caused Jeno to stop dead in his tracks. He hasn’t even said anything and already Mrs. Huang read his mind and denied him of what he needed most. “No. You’re staying the night. I insist.”

 

“Ma’am, truly, you don’t need to,-”

 

“The Inner City is like an endless maze during the night, a stranger to the city like you will not survive it, not even for a second. I don’t even have to explain that your cloak is not dry yet, right, Mr. Traveller, sir?” as if she knew that Jeno was unable to escape her house without his cloak, she turned her back on him, his jacket still held tightly inside her protective arms, and walked briskly to what he deduced was her drying station. “Renjun, show him the guest room.”

 

A quick glance exchanged between him and the boy made it clear that they both have the same sense of puzzlement (and in Renjun’s case, a little bit of surprise too) floating around in their head at that very moment, _‘this decrepit place has a guest room?’_

 

But as usual, Mrs. Huang, not only the best laundress in the street but also the best reader of children confusion, rolled her eyes in exasperation and proceeded to further explain her instruction, “let him stay on your bed, dear, and be the good host that I know you can be.”

 

Jeno was just about to let out a sentence, a word, at least a _sound_ of protest, but it was stifled when he felt boney fingers circling around his wrist, tugging it along as they made their way deeper into the quaint home. Once they turned a corner and started ascending up an extremely narrow set of stairs that seemed to be something chipped out of the walls with a bone and a hammer over a number of years, Renjun leaned in to whisper reassuring words into Jeno’s ears, “I will help you escape from the second story window once she’s asleep, Your Grace. And don’t worry. I will get your cloak for you too.”

 

Once again a smile bloomed on Jeno’s face because of Renjun’s endearing quality. But unlike the previous two, that occasion was the one time when Jeno finally felt free enough to let himself go and fully give his prodigious cheesemaker what he’d always wanted to give. A genuine smile.

 

Or however genuine one could give a smile when scaling a dangerous path.

 

The stairs to Renjun’s room were narrow, and each steps were set in different heights. The only thing stopping them from slipping off the damned thing and breaking their neck were small candles  stacked inside shallow dips on the wall that Renjun ever so kindly lit up one by one as they made their way into what Jeno could only guess was an attic room.

 

And indeed it was. Just like the rest of his house, one swing of a rickety wooden door later and Jeno was met with the sight of a dilapidated sleeping quarter. More like a crawl space than a room, if he had to be completely honest. Press him to compare it to something from his castle, and he’d probably say, _‘the toy chest inside his baby brother’s room’_.

 

But it has a wide window that almost completely took the entirety of the Eastern wall so that even without any candles being lighted, the room was fully lit with the silvery wash of the full moon.

 

“While we wait for you mother to sleep, is it okay if you bring me another plate of your cheese?” He wasn’t intending to sound like a typical Prince and come off as being bratty and needing to be tended twenty four-seven, but the moment he sat down on the sunken mattress covered with rough and itchy blanket seemingly made out of used potato sack inside the small dwelling of his mouse, Jeno realised that having a bit of snack at the side while they waited for night to fall wouldn’t be that bad of an idea at all.

 

“Oh…?! You…  you really do like them Your Grace?”

 

“If I don’t like them, I won’t ask for second servings, won’t I?”

 

Jeno just noticed the way Renjun would scratch the back of his head every time he felt flustered, even if just for a little bit, and there goes another item to be added into his mental list of _‘why the little mouse who lives in the wall can be so endearing’_. “That’s true, Your Grace. It won’t be long,-”

 

“Jeno.”

 

“... sorry?”

 

He leaned forward and invited Renjun to a friendly and very informal handshake. A way to possibly decrease the apparent power imbalance between them and reduce Renjun’s frequency of having to bow down to him out of respect (or fear). Because however hard he tried to deny it, Jeno was starting to get restless by how poorly Renjun executed his bows. He will have to teach him how to do a proper one someday, “just call me Jeno, please.”

 

“But, but, Your Grace,-”

 

“In the words of your mother, _‘I insist.’_ ”

 

It seemed that a little laughter was all it took to shake off the arbitrary formality left between the two barely-adult children. Because after their laughter had fizzled to a soft giggle, Renjun took Jeno’s invitation and held his hand in a somewhat firm handshake, “okay then, Je… Jeno?” Renjun’s word ended in a high note of hesitation that was only brought back to normal when he saw Jeno nodding his head in a show of acceptance and further encouragement, “then it won’t be long.”

 

“Thankyou so much Renjun, I owe you one.”

 

_ _ _ _ _

  


Jeno ran back to the castle as fast as his little sleepy legs could take him. A lone pebble rolling along the deserted street of the Inner City. And it was a hard task too, you know, with the slightly damp cloak plastered across his back and adding at least an extra kilogram to his cheese-filled belly.

 

It felt like he’d been talking with Renjun for only an hour, even less. But when they finally heard the sound of Mrs. Huang retiring to her room, Jeno looked at the sky and noticed that it was already midnight.

 

 _‘Oh god oh god oh god,’_ he chanted silently inside his mind when he paused underneath the wall he needed to scale to get into the castle. Only silently because his mouth was too busy panting out puffs of breath to be used to say anything intelligible.

 

One stone, two stones, _what if mother was waiting for me in my room. What if she’s upset._

 

Three stones, four stones, _what if father was waiting for me in my room?! What if he’s_ mad _?!_

 

Five, six, seven, eight, and off he went, boots and cloak clutched closely against his heart, so that only his socks-clad feet would patter against the stone floor. Alerting no one of his return back to a place where he shouldn’t have been gone from in the first place.

 

Jeno had memorised the schedules and routes of the castle’s guards as clearly as the pattern of hair on the back of his hand that it was easy for him to reach his room without any unfortunate happenstance that would’ve lead to something that range from blackmail in the least, and reporting his night escapades to his father at worst. His room was dark when he creeped into it, clinging to the door because he was hoping his weight hanging on it would stop the hinges from groaning out like a dying mule.

 

 _‘Of course it’s dark,’_ he berated himself, _‘nobody’s in it.’_ Then, when the realisation hit him, of what _nobody’s here_ really meant, Jeno was awashed with a feeling of gladness that he finally could let out all his worry in one long exhale.

 

After he securely closed the door and waited for a good thirty seconds to make sure nobody was around to lend a few eavesdropping ears, Jeno quickly discarded of his disguise inside a loose stone at the far corner of his room, hidden carefully underneath his study desk, before changing into his night slip so quickly he almost tripped on the clothes’ long hem.

 

Luckily, his bed was within reach and so Jeno fully allowed gravity to take ahold of him and fell head first to a human being’s shoulder blades.

 

His first reaction was a quiet, _‘what,’_ said only within the confines of his brain.

 

But his second was a loud, “WHAT?!” And he had to quickly plop his hands over his mouth to stop himself from furthering his yell with words that are unsatisfactory.

 

Jeno softly padded his hand over the lump of _something_ (or someone) on his bed and for a second he thought, _‘have I been dreaming? Was all of today a dream? Is this the real me, sleeping, while the me right now is just my soul flying around in limbo?’_

 

But then he saw the unidentified human’s terribly unfashionable hair cover peeking out from the swash of thick blanket and Jeno proceeded to slap some life into said person.

 

Who else would wear such ugly hair net to sleep? Only someone whose personal signature is a questionable taste in hair accessories.

 

“Mmhmm, what…?” Minhyung groaned as he blindly reached out for the source of his slumber-interruptor. But then, when enough amount of consciousness spilled into his brain for it to start working, he immediately shot up into a sitting position and stared directly at Jeno with bewildered eyes, “oh you’re back? You’re back… good… good… good,-”

 

“What are you doing here?” Jeno whispered, confusion heavily tinting his voice. He was stuck between wanting to feel frustrated or glad or weirded out because, _‘what in seven hells is Minhyung doing in my room?!’_

 

Because of the darkness of the room, Jeno couldn’t see Minhyung’s palm flying in the direction of his face until it’s too late. More like, until his open hand made contact with the supple skin of Jeno’s cheek.

 

It was seemingly Minhyung’s take on revenge for what Jeno did to him earlier, but in Jeno’s opinion, it was totally disproportionate. Minhyung was hit on his shoulder. He hit Jeno on his face. Is this how a friend says thankyou after being allowed to sleep on a royal sized bed? How ungrateful.

 

“I covered for you, you reckless pigeon.” Minhyung said in the middle of a yawn, “the Queen checked the room twice after lights out. You should thank me for covering for you because if not, I would’ve lost the bet with Jisung.”

 

Ah, the bet. Of how long the castle’s bells could stay un-chimed in regards of Jeno’s whereabouts. Jisung bet on _‘anything shorter than a month.’_ While Minhyung bet on _‘longer than a quarter of a year.’_

 

It’s only been two weeks ever since the last time the whole castle went into frenzy trying to find a missing Jeno (he fell asleep in the crypt after spending the whole morning tracing the graves’ decorative reliefs with a piece of charcoal), and Minhyung being Minhyung, the stingy piece of dried tofu skin wouldn’t want to pay anyone five gold coins if he could help it.

 

Jeno pulled a strand of Minhyung’s dark brown hair and let it fall unceremoniously on his droopy eyes, “you fooled the Queen without masking this hair?”

 

“It’s dark, she won’t notice.”

 

He only sighed to that, “she’s my mother, silly, she must’ve noticed…”

 

He surely won’t be looking forward for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. _‘This morning’s breakfast,'_ his sleepy mind reminded him, Minhyung’s yawn seemingly luring out one from within himself. Wide and lion-like. So unsuitable for a Prince that it even caused Minhyung to chuckle.

 

“You’re not going to send me away?” Minhyung asked when Jeno silently uncovered the corner of his blanket and snuggled into the other side of his bed without anymore protests.

 

“And risk you getting caught by the castle’s guards? I don’t think so,” he said, followed soon by another yawn, “just make sure to wake up before everyone else. Oh, and get Jisung to ready up everything he’s got. I have something really important to share.”

 

There was a slight pause, most likely because Minhyung just had to digest the fact that he was really going to spend the night on the same bed as the Crown Prince, before he shrugged his shoulders and scooted himself back to his previous position, “your wish is my command.”

 

The silence of the night was quick to settle back into the nooks and crannies of the room, only briefly disrupted by Jeno’s quiet voice. “Minhyung?” the last ounce of his energy for the day used to admit something to Minhyung (he knew he had to do it then because at least then their collective fatigue prevented any physical skirmish from breaking off between the two of them), “I’m sorry but long story short, I lost your ugly hat.”

 

“... I hate you so much right now.”

 

“You’re welcome my friend, you’re welcome.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, cheese boi renjun is the best character i've ever written he's so adorable 10/10 would probably enter the 5th dimension from how often he scared himself shitless


	3. triple crèmes

“Good morning everyone.” Jeno, being the head of the  _ ‘secret cheese enthusiast’ _ club, was standing at the front of the small empty nook at the back of the castle’s archives. A skinny wooden stick picked from the dusty corner of the room on his left hand and a stub of white chalk on his right. “The topic of today’s small council meeting is  _ ‘human resource development.”  _ He used the chalk to write the abbreviation of their theme,  _ H.R.D.,  _ on the blackened surface of the wall, his voice ending out in a quiet echo the moment his hand stopped on a pronounced dot.

 

“I’m sorry teach,” Jisung, sitting cross legged on the floor, raised his arm up and caused the shared blanket to be pulled away from Minhyung’s barely awake shoulders. There was a little kerfuffle between the two sole members of their tiny club, as they fought for the sole ownership of the blanket, before Jisung gave up on his grip and caused Minhyung to fall backward to the cold, hard floor. He then casually continued on with his question as if nothing's happened, “but what more development can we do to the little amount of human resources that we have?

 

“You can’t be bothered to learn about the logistics behind cheesemaking, Minhyung can’t be bothered to learn about the science behind cheesemaking, and  _ I _ don’t have  _ all _ the time in the world to learn everything about cheesemaking. Teach, tell me WHAT DEVELOPMENT SHOULD WE DO THEN, TEACH?”

 

To that sudden outburst of emotion, Jeno could only give Jisung a weirded out look accompanied by knitted brows and lips stretched out into a thin frown, “did you have enough sleep last night?”

 

“Evidently not,” Minhyung, now back in an upright position, spelled out his answer in one drawn out yawn.

 

It was quickly chased away when Jisung firmly shoved him on his arm, “sneaking into a royal bedchamber and sleeping on the Prince’s bed is illegal you know.”

 

“You’re just upset you have to say goodbye to those gold coins,” Minhyung drawled out his taunt while he made sure to lean in really close to Jisung. The sleepy smile on his face growing wider when he saw the youngest member of their dying club was getting more and more agitated.

 

“I should just report you to the guards, and you’ll be imprisoned, and I’ll do nothing but laugh at your face,-”

 

“Boys… boys, please,” sensing that he was the only person awake and sane enough at the otherwise beautiful morning (not that they could enjoy it as the archives has no windows), Jeno had no other choice but to step in between the two bickering children,  _ literally, _ and used his feet to put a bit of distance in between the two before they decided to upgrade their measly blanket kerfuffle into a full-blown fist fight. Not that the two were the types of people who will resort to physical brawl in the moment of heated argument, as they’re honestly more likely to exact revenge by making each other's job a living hell by putting mean pranks all over the castle’s archive, but Jeno could never be too careful when it comes to his two friends. 

 

He remembered the time when the two of them were locked in a silent war of increasingly escalating pranks, which started because Jisung accidentally knocked a bottle of Minhyung’s expensive ink and ended with Jisung almost blowing out the entirety of the castle’s east wing with his homemade explosives. He remembered how the three of them had to then sneak off to a secluded place at the nearby forest to manually (and safely) detonate the explosives. The thing let out a fire column almost five times the height of a fully grown adult and Jeno also remembered how they spent the next minute laughing out their pent up nervousness as the earth literally rained down on them. 

 

( _ Several reasons behind why the two of them haven’t been detained by Lumina’s royal guard are because one, they’re good at erasing their involvements in any chaos they’ve caused in the castle and two, Jeno worked his butt off to distract all the law enforcement's attention away from the real culprits and blamed everything on say… a malicious prophecy or something. _ )

 

After gaining such vital information in regards of their cheese-restoration project, Jeno couldn’t afford to see his club members losing their focus from the thing that mattered most. Which was to find a sustainable solution in creating delicious, affordable, Grasslands grade cheese.

 

“Oh! Oh!” Jisung’s arm once again shot up to the air, but this time it was because he remembered something important. One second he was sulking and the next he was bouncing excitedly on the floor, clapping his hands in excitement as if he was a kid on his nameday, “how was Ports and Piglets??? Was it good?”

 

“Didn’t get to try anything.” 

 

Jisung paused for a little while, head tilted to the side as he was trying to make sense of Jeno’s words. And when it did come to him, the realisation caused his arm to slowly slither back down to his side, “oh… did the police finally raid the place?”

 

“They did.” Jeno nodded solemnly. 

 

Minhyung too, nodded alongside him, also very solemnly, “oh, I’m glad you didn’t get caught.” 

 

“That’s really nice of you to say that,-”

 

“Because then they would’ve rang the castle’s bells if you got caught.” He added those words and it immediately undermined the previously nice sounding words he gave to Jeno, “and I would have to pay up to this little rat right here. So yeah! Thankyou for not getting caught!”

 

This time, it wasn’t only Jisung who looked at him with a gaze heavily laced in sourness. Jeno also looked at Minhyung in a sense of disbelief, both arms perched on his waist and he was just  _ this  _ close from berating him for his severe scrooge-like behaviour when the word  _ ‘rat’  _ caused him to remember what he really wanted to discuss in the first place.

 

Jeno, however humble he might think he is, would often succumb to the more theatrical portion of his innate personality. When one of your direct ancestor is called  _ ‘the Pompous Fool of the South’ _ , sometimes you just can’t help but to let all the flair out in one go. “Ports and Piglets is ancient history, I,-” he paused in the middle of his sentence,  _ very  _ dramatically too, I might add. With a smug smile and his lithe fingers hovering over his chest and his nose pointed up to the ceiling, Jeno milked the moment so much that Jisung started to yell at him to  _ get on with it. _

 

And he did, after he gave Jisung a sharp glare from just a peek underneath his thick lashes. A peek reserved to shut little kids up. And of course, it worked,

 

“I, me! I, Lee Jeno, found ourselves… A NEW MEMBER FOR OUR CLUB.” 

 

Jeno was hoping for an applause. Some cheerings or a little hoot, at the very least. Something to show that his club members are just enthusiastic as he was to the promise of  _ change! Discovery! Excitement! Adventure!  _ And thus, when his revelation was met only with two pairs of squinted and confused eyes, Jeno found himself deflating just as quick as a pig bladder ball pierced by a sharp object. 

 

“Why aren’t you excited…”

 

“More than  _ not _ being excited,” Minhyun finally opened his mouth after he took one long breath, long enough to set right whatever words were jumbled up in his mind, “I guess we’re just… puzzled?” 

 

“Yeah, how did you find this  _ ‘new member’ _ ?” Jisung topped Minhyung’s words with his own, capping it off with a term that was blanketed in his dainty fingers forming some quotation marks. 

 

“It’s kind of a long story,”

 

“Well… we’re listening.” 

 

Jeno honestly didn’t anticipate the possibility of  _ this _ happening. The fact that his friends didn’t just lap up his revelation with open arms and instead asked him for some clarifications caused Jeno to wonder. 

 

Where should he start?

 

_ Should I start from the moment when I ran away from the tavern? Should I tell them about how I regrettably had to ignore and let the poor waiter get captured by the cheese police (because he couldn’t run as quick as me, so in the bear attack rule, the waiter was no better than dead meat)? Should I start from the water-out-the-window accident? Should I start from when the cheeseboy found out about my identity? How about his mother, should I tell them about that? Or should I…,- _

 

“Jeno.”

 

“ _ Huh?  _ What?”

 

He didn’t realise that he’d entered a realm of semi-unconsciousness while he was contemplating over how to start his cheese-laden adventure from the night before, not until Jisung threw a particularly gigantic dust bunny at his forehead and he jolted awake.

 

“Tell us the story!” Kids being kids, Jeno could see the shine of excitement almost frothing over Jisung’s wide, unblinking eyes. And they just reminded him of the ones owned by the cheeseboy. Bright and glistening in wonder and deep hunger of wanting to know  _ more.  _ The way he would lean in, as far as he could without breaking their bubbles of personal barrier, while he was listening intently to Jeno’s marvelous tales of eating real cheese at the Grasslands. He even had to remind his cheeseboy to close his mouth because if not he would’ve drooled all over himself. His? Because he found him, is Renjun  _ his _ ? Or will he be owned collectively, under the name of the club?  _ ‘How does taking a protege work?’  _ He wondered,  _ ‘is he even a protege if his mentors are just going to be books? _

 

_ Are proteges even owned? Jisung’s mentor doesn’t seem to ever refer to him like he’s an… expendable thing? But the stable boys do get tossed around like hays sometimes. How did people treat cheesemaker apprentices back in the day?’ _

 

“Jeno!” 

 

“What?!”

 

“Stop daydreaming and tell us the story!” There was another dust bunny, somehow bigger than the one before, hitting him right on his nose, and all the dust so close to his sheltered lungs forced out of him three potent sneezes. 

 

“Three times the charm,” Minhyung said in between his held back laughter, extending his graces by lending Jeno one of his finely embroidered handkerchief. 

 

After he blew the content of his blocked nose to the handkerchief (and after Minhyung denied his offer to return said kerchief back to him,  _ ‘wash it first,’  _ he said, and Jeno started to think that maybe he’s becoming a bit too lax in regards of how far his friends are allowed to be chummy with him, the Crown Prince of the Kingdom), Jeno had gathered enough mental presence and determination to finally get on with his exciting tale.

 

But the moment he opened his mouth, the moment he said, “it all started when I sat down at the tavern,” he saw the frilly ends of one of his mother’s youngest lady in waiting swishing past the droopy stone book cases, and for the first time since his broken heirloom vase debacle, Jeno felt fear so strong he could feel all colours being drained from his face.

 

“Your Grace, the Queen requested you to join her for breakfast,” the lady’s soft voice was such a contrast to the sad, cold and dreary atmosphere of the archives and Jeno felt a partial sense of guilt for ever causing her to venture this deep into such a strange environment.

 

Although, it was apparent that Minhyung and Jisung did not catch the negative vibe emanating from Jeno, as they instead were shamelessly clamoring to their feet, clumsily trying to out-shine each other by displaying the best bow to the young lady, or at least the best that they could remember from the rare cases that Jeno was feeling bothered enough to teach them formal courtly mannerism. 

 

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), the young lady did not seem to experience any certain amusement over the foolishness displayed before her, and only responded with a polite, but detached, curtsy. 

 

“Thankyou for coming all the way here to inform me, my Lady, I will attend to that as soon as I finish my archival dealings.” 

 

As soon as he finished his address, as soon as she knew she was not needed down in the archives, the young lady sharply turned on her spot and ran. Ah, pardon, as ladies never ran,  _ floated away _ . With the train of her pale gold dress trailing behind her, she was a sight not far different from how Jeno imagined a spectral haunting would move down the cramped corridors stacked to the top with dusty and musty books. 

 

If Jeno saw a haunting, his two friends must’ve saw something else. Still a sort of apparition, but certainly not one based on horror tales. Because they were clinging to each other for dear life, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over in a faraway look that could only be produced if ones were trapped deep inside their fantastical daydreams. 

 

“Was that a goddess…” Minhyung’s mumble was what finally broke the silence between the three of them.

 

And soon after it was followed by Jeno’s exasperated sigh, “no, that’s just my mother’s newest lady in waiting.” He took Jisung’s annoying hand who already latched onto his arm and carefully placed it on top of a book lying at the reading table right beside them. In a way, he had to do that while avoiding the kid’s gaze, as Jeno knew for sure what was waiting for him if he ever dared look up. Teary, pleading, puppy eyes. “I’m not telling you who she is,- no, not because I’m afraid of what you’ll do to annoy her, I’m afraid of what she’ll do to destroy  _ you. _ ”

 

Because of course, being the youngest daughter of the most prolific vassal of the royal family, pursuing the hand of young lady Kim could be closely compared to offering oneself to a spot on the hanging post. 

 

Jeno remembered when a clueless lesser lord from the Southern region dared to ask her for her hand to a dance during one of the many charity balls ran by his mother. The unfortunate lord was quickly cornered by the young lady Kim’s mother, her father  _ the  _ Lord Kim, her two older brothers, and even her older sister also rushed away from her own dance partner and joined the tiny mob at the back of the main hall. 

 

The lord was never heard again ever since that day. Rumors said he was sent away, more like banished, to a two years worth of apprenticeship at the merchant vessel owned by the King’s only sister. And to that Jeno could only wish him the best of luck, because well… his aunt was more well known by her notorious nickname than the one given to her at birth,  _ the one-eyed crimson demon _ .

 

If they did _that_ to a lesser lord (who was even quite well off, what with his father owning a sizable land, castle, and foot soldiers at the outer reach of the Kingdom), Jeno couldn’t even begin to imagine what will Lord Kim do to his two no-name friends if he ever found out, not even at the point of pursuing, more like what will he do to them if he ever even _sensed_ that _lesser_ _people_ (his words, not Jeno’s) displayed any hint of romantic interest to his precious little Yerim. 

 

“Meet me at the usual spot two hours before sundown. Jisung, bring the essential editions. Minhyung, bring your scribe tools.” Jeno might not be allowed to attend any war council,  _ yet.  _ Besides, Lumina hasn’t faced any oppositions that couldn’t be solved by careful delegation or small operations since… oh, since almost a decade ago? But, the way he pointed at his friends, his comrades, his  _ underlings _ , fully conveyed the fiery drive and determination of the most seasoned war admiral. Ready to march for the battle. “I will catch you up with the details on our way there. I promise you,  _ it’ll be good. _ ”

 

But before that,

 

Admiral gotta have breakfast with mommy first. 

  
  


_ _ _ _ _

  
  
  


Jeno expected to see her sitting at the end of the long dining table, arms folded nicely on her lap and a smile on her lips. Nice smile. Calm smile.  _ Calm smile that meant everything else but calmness. _

 

But to his surprise, the servant who was waiting in front of their living quarter quietly guided him to his mother’s personal solar, instead of the bigger one that was shared with all of the royal family members.

 

His mother’s solar was a one hundred and eighty degrees change from the gloomy archives. Trading suffocating atmosphere with windows as tall as the ceiling and transparent curtains softly blowing in the cool morning breeze. The Queen was sitting on the floor, in between piles of fluffy cushions and soft knitted rugs. Beside her was a low rising cot, and inside he could see his baby brother sleeping.  _ ‘Must’ve finished his meal before I came,’  _ he thought, and indeed he was right. Because the moment Jeno sat down at the only other pile of pillows and blankets and made himself comfortable, his mother politely asked the wet nurse to bring his baby brother back to the main bedroom. 

 

“May I see him, mother?” He asked, the question serving a double duty because he  _ really _ did want to see his brother more closely, but he also wanted to gauge the level of irritation that possibly was being hidden by his mother. Because Jeno knew, that if his mother was in a low mood, she will never grant him of any request.

 

Thus, when the Queen nodded and signalled the wet nurse to do a slight detour before making her way out the room, he knew. They were off to a good start. Although still, to be safe, he tried to prolong his greetings with his baby brother because a private breakfast with the Queen doesn’t always have a smooth start. And he was not keen to see which side of the coin he’d landed on. But there is only so many things you can do to a sleeping baby without waking them up that not thirty seconds passed before Jeno had to reluctantly let the wet nurse continue on her merry ways. 

 

“How was your morning dear?” His mother opened up and spoke when the door behind him let out a final click and they found themselves being completely alone in each other’s company, which is a really,  _ really _ rare occasion for him to find himself in. Usually there would be a musician playing the harp at the corner of the room, or servers waiting beside their dining table, or some random lords and ladies that she invited along. There were none of that then. Just him, the Queen, two cups of steaming herbal tea, and a three tiered tea stand filled to the edges with breakfast items that he loves most. 

 

“It was good, I visited the archives and talked with the librarian about my study plans,” Jeno said while  _ calmly _ taking a sip of his tea. Making sure to tip the cup all the way so that his mother won’t notice his eyes darting around in frenzy, a habit he noticed he always do everytime he tells a lie. The moment he placed his cup on the low, oblong-shaped lacquered coffee table, his mother immediately went and top it up with calculated precision. A skill he never knew she has because all this time there would always be someone else doing it for them. 

 

“That’s nice.” Encouraging words such as those, and occasional hums to let him know that she was listening were the only thing she contributed to the conversation. In contrast, Jeno was practically rambling through a comprehensive report of what he’d learned from the castle’s scholars in the past few weeks. He just couldn’t seem to be able to get himself to shut up, what with each silent breaks filled only with the faint rustling of tree leaves with each blows of morning breeze. The lack of filler noises usually provided by the castle’s musician, or her chatter with other courtly ladies, or a lord that didn’t know when to stop boasting about his riches, caused Jeno to overcompensate and didn’t stop his mindless chatter until his mother pointed at the tea stand and motioned him to start eating.

 

“Help yourself. I specially asked the cook to make all of this for you.”

 

He was in the middle of telling her what he learned during history lesson (he just learned about the wars of the three Queens that happened almost three centuries ago), when her offer caused him to let out a tiny  _ ‘oh, okay’ _ and he gingerly began to create a food pile-up on his tiny plate.

 

Telling him to start eating was a great strategy done by the Queen, as then she could finally butt in some questions in between his babblings. Things ranging from  _ “are all the scholars treating you well?”  _ to  _ “are you interested in learning bookkeeping? There is always a shortage of good bookkeepers in this Land. You can study that with Lord Kim’s younger son, he’s really good at that.”  _

 

And with each question, Jeno could feel the weight on his shoulder slowly being lifted, little by little he could feel himself getting more and more relaxed. With each question, the more he believed she didn’t call him to berate him for daring to run away from the castle and thinking that he could fool her with tricks as cheap as telling his friend to act as his stand in (although the latter wasn’t even his idea in the first place).

 

He did realise something odd in the middle of his meal though.  _ They were sitting on the floor. _

 

It was an odd fact because his mother doesn't like sitting on the floor. She always said that it makes her back hurts, that it makes her look small, and short, and she doesn’t like being seen as such, at all. Also, she doesn't like salty food. It was well known, even to the farthest reaches of the Kingdom, that the Queen has a penchant for anything sweet.  _ He  _ likes salty food… and the quaint breakfast banquet consisted of nothing but salty food items. 

 

This could only mean one thing. The Queen was trying to gain his favour. But for what? All of the emissaries have gone back home. The annual treaty conference was officially closed two days ago. What could she possibly want more from him? And at that moment, he realised,  _ ‘maybe, this is a treat for me because I’ve done such a good job taking care of the emissaries’ children.’  _ After raking his brain over for the next few minutes and finding no other better explanation, Jeno finally decided on  _ that _ narrative for why the Queen has went out of her usual way to treat him for a really nice breakfast.

 

The calmness settling in on his heart was the reason why he almost choked on a piece of savoury egg tart when the Queen next spoke, her words completely catching him off guard.

 

“Did you have fun last night?”

 

“… Pardon?”

 

His eyes wanted to wander in an effort to avoid the severity of his mother’s gaze. The problem is, he somehow had the gist that if he looked away, something would befell him. Something way more terrifying than the Queen’s truth-searching eyes.

 

“I will spare us both from my attempts at clarifying the question, as it  _ is  _ sort of a sensitive topic to talk about,” for someone whose son had just broke the law, the Queen surely was handling the confrontation really calmly. She leaned over the low table to refill Jeno’s teacup, and not one droplet was wasted, “I am sure we both  _ know  _ what I meant. Don’t we, dear?” 

 

_ ‘Oh god she does know.’  _ His thought was running as fast as a racehorse placed on a flat terrain, and beads of cold sweat started to form all over his pale face. Just as pale as rancid milk.  _ ‘Did one of the Ports and Piglets patrons noticed me and snitched on me to my mother? Did one of the cheese police recognised me and reported me to my father?’ _

 

The silence between them was deafening, causing nothing but simmering anxiety that sent Jeno’s digestive system into overdrive. He felt like throwing up everything he’d just eaten and he knew vomit was the last thing his mother wanted to come out of his mouth. She wanted  _ answers.  _ And if she had to wait until sundown and next morning’s sunrise to get it from him, she will.

 

Ooh god, she will. 

 

But just as he was about to commit a figurative suicide (because what is life if he can’t eat cheese?) and beg for her forgiveness, the Queen somehow beat him to it, 

 

“I apologise, dear.” 

 

Jeno was dumbstruck. One mental attack after the other and he was left sitting silently on his pile of plush pillows, with his mouth slightly open as he listened to his mother attempting to justify her words, “I shouldn’t have done it like I just did. I’m sorry love,

 

“it must’ve been hard for you, hmm? So hard that it made you go about it secretly behind my back.” 

 

He couldn’t understand. The careful, almost pitying look that his mother has, the softness of her voice, as if she was afraid that one loud incline of her tone would cause something dire to happen to either of them. He couldn’t understand it at all. Was she being genuinely… sorry that Jeno had to go all hush-hush on his journey to discover cheese? Or was this all a ruse to get a concrete confession from the suspect? Maybe they are not alone in this solar. Maybe, there are tens of the King’s spy hiding in between all the wooden cupboards and jewelry boxes, just waiting to hear him say the word before they burst forth and detain him. 

 

“I apologise, dear, I really do. Oh, you don’t know how often I pray to the heavens that you will not grow to care for things that will make your life as our eldest son to be harder than what it already is,” his mother sighed as she reached out for his hand, still holding the small silver fork with a piece of egg tart stuck at the end of it, “I understand what you must be feeling, what must be going through your mind, but you have to remember your duty as the eldest son, dear. Your duty as the heir to the throne.” She grasped his hand, as if she was hoping that a squeeze would cause her son to speak up about this sensitive topic, and it did work, sort of. Words began to choke out of Jeno’s dried up mouth and after several embarrassing tries, he managed to string up a sentence coherent enough to be understood by others,

 

“I… I also apologise for… for what I’ve done, mother. And for bringing such worry to your mind. I promise I… will stop doing it as soon as possible… tomorrow! I promise I’ll stop tomorrow,-.”

 

“Don’t promise me things you cannot keep my dear.” She cut him short with words that stabbed him through his heart and soul, as easily as those cheese cutters in his uncle’s castle could cut open a wheel of nicely aged hard cheese. 

 

“What do you want me to do then mother?” without intending to do so, Jeno’s words came out in a way that, in his opinion, was too pointed. Something he knew he shouldn’t have done. Not to a Queen, and especially not to his own mother. But what could the boy do? His mother saw through his illegal actions and proceeded to mercilessly corner him for a little duty-and-morality chit-chat. Sharp words that were riddled with anxiety was the least of his worry. 

 

But it didn’t seem as though the Queen was disturbed by his lapse in manner. She only gave him an understanding smile and trudged along with her advice, “oh… I know you won’t ever listen to me if I told you to stop doing it immediately, but as I said. Remember your place. Your duty. Know that you won’t be able to do it forever. So part with it slowly dear, little by little. Give yourself time to grieve, to let go, yes? The last thing I wish to see is you having a broken heart over the separation.”

 

His mother’s counsel entered his right ear, got translated in his mind as  _ ‘do things even more carefully, little by little. Don’t be greedy and space out your nightly outings to reduce suspicion’ _ , finally escaping through his left ear without him taking in any of the word's’ true meaning. But where would the world be if children never lies? It would’ve probably stopped spinning long ago. And so Jeno bowed his head (to mask his wandering eyes), and delivered the most determined lie in his personal history of lies. Because the faster he appeased her wishes, the faster he could escape this cursed breakfast. And the faster he could consult his club members for a better plan to mask their cheese escapades,

 

“thankyou mother for your wise words. I will surely implement it in the process. But uh,- you haven’t… you haven’t told father, have you?”

 

She let out a peculiar, un-Queenly sound after she heard his words of worry. A  _ snort,  _ for lack of better word. Some wet chortle stuck in the middle of disbelieve and ill-humor, “of course not, silly.” She then leaned in, even further than what she already has going on, and gave Jeno’s cheek a soft pinch. A gesture that, if he remembered correctly, was last done by her when he was nothing but a tiny kid of seven, “if you don’t want me to tell him, I will never tell him. Let it be a secret between you and me.”

 

“But mother… isn’t that an act of treason?”

 

Her fingers shifted then, slowly, from a pinch into warm, soft hands cupping his cheeks in such loving way that only a mother could, “every other people might only ever see me as the Queen. But know that I am always a mother first, for you, and for my little Jaemin. And remember dear, I will always love you. Always. No matter who you love.”

 

At first, Jeno was awashed in gladness after knowing that his mother had came forth and essentially gave her blessings for him to continue on his cheese-related endeavours. But in the middle of his content smile, something in his brain clicked which caused everything to come to a halt. Just as sudden and shocking as the sound of a harp’s wire snapping in half in the middle of a song.  _ ‘Wait a second. Who?’  _ He thought,  _ ‘who whom?!’ _ At first it was only a silent puzzlement, but soon he went on to verbalise it because he needed to clarify with his mother if he’d heard her words correctly the first time around, “… who?”

 

“You, my dear, I’ll always love you.”

 

“No… no I mean did you say ‘no matter  _ who  _ you love?’”

 

“Ooh yes, I know it’s hard, dear, but you have to remember that as the heir to the throne, you have the duty to continue the royal bloodline. So I do expect you to marry a  _ woman.  _ But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have some… hm, how should I word this nicely… fun? Adventure? Aah,  _ escapades _ , before me and your father find you a good political match,” his mother only met his confusion with an absent minded wave of her hand. She might’ve thought that they were both sitting on the same page of the book, but Jeno had just suddenly found himself pushed through the edge of said book and left stranded at the cold, hard floor. “Wasn’t it the scribe boy that I saw shared your bed last night? Oh, I can’t believe how quick my son has grown… it felt like yesterday that you were just a wee babe who cried everytime I stopped singing,-”

 

_ ‘Oh, it’s not about cheese… she hasn’t found out.’  _ And even with that realisation, Jeno still sat there dumbfounded, practically ignoring the chatterings of his mother because he was unable to process the incoming information as quickly as the mysteries unfolded. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to let out a big sigh and probably give his mother one bear of a hug that no prince should ever indulge in. But there was a silent voice whispering to him at the back of his mind that was fully commanding all of his attention.

 

_ ‘You could open your mouth and correct this misunderstanding, and risk jeopardising everything in the process. Or, you could shut up, and live a life of fabricated lie.’ _

 

Living a life  _ with _ lies or living a life  _ without _ cheese. 

 

Hmmm. Wonder which option Jeno will choose.

  
  
  


_ _ _ _ _

  
  
  


“Took you long enough teach!” Jisung waved at Jeno when he spotted him up on of the aviary’s high platforms after he’d just sent away a homing pigeon with a small scroll tied around its leg. Although, at that moment, the boy telling them to keep their voices down was  _ not  _ Jeno. Right then, technically he was nothing more but a brown haired aviary assistant with soot smeared all over his nose. 

 

After the close call with the Queen earlier that morning, Jeno decided that they would have to increase the safety nettings of their first ever group outing and decided to pick another meeting point. Somewhere much more discreet than their usual escape route from the castle. The aviary would mean that they’d have to take a longer detour through the forest to reach the Inner City, but  _ everyone _ visits the aviary. So it was easy for them to mix up with the chaos of floating feathers, bird shit, and cargos being carted in by messengers and find an opening to escape. 

 

“I had to send a heads up to our new recruit, tell him we’re coming,” he explained while dusting the specks of sawdust off his tattered pants. Jeno then pointed at both of his friends and asked them to show him if they’d brought all of the items he requested them to bring earlier.

 

“Why’d we need all this anyway?” Minhyung huffed, half annoyed that he had to risk dirtying his precious canvas bag with spilled ink. Because no matter how hard and how careful he capped his bottles, he never knew what shenanigans Jisung might pull that would cause a possible leakage. 

 

“I need you to copy something,” signalling the two of them to begin moving with a nod of his head, Jeno led their way towards the back entryway of the wooded area. Knowing full well that the stillness of the forest will dampen the next thing he was going to say, “it’s a recipe book.  _ I found one.  _ Still intack. With so many types in it, I can’t even begin to comprehend how,-”

 

“A RECIPE BOOK?!” Their loud yell completely threw Jeno’s previous attempt at being discreet out of the window. And both Minhyung and Jisung was stopped right on their tracks as they let out their shock and disbelieve, well, Jisung was technically jumping up and down in excitement, but same difference.

 

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?! I would’ve bring a better scroll!” Minhyung babbled while opening up his bag to do one last recheck to see if he really did indeed brought everything he needed to do a good job at copying a  _ ‘cheese recipe book! Oh my lords finally, all my training as a scribe will amount to this, father would’ve been so proud.’ _

 

“Yes! Why didn’t you tell us?! Is the owner a cheesemaker?  _ A hiding cheesemaker?!  _ I should’ve brought a more advanced copy of the theory book!” 

 

Jeno had to put a heavy hand on Jisung’s shoulder to stop him from jumping around like an excited bunny, and a heavy hand on Minhyung’s shoulder to stop him from upturning his bag and scattering its content on the forest bed. 

 

“As I said, I’ll tell everything on our way there. So please, if you want to know more about our new recruit,  _ listen. _ ” Sometimes, even if he didn’t want to, he had to fully embrace his royal pedigree if he wanted to keep two of his sheltered friends in check. Because it always work, much to his annoyance. Even in a state where his silver hair was dyed beyond recognition and matted to his forehead like the the fur of a sewer rat, nobody could deny that the  _ look _ he has in his eyes still resembled those of his father, the King. 

 

“Oh, by the way, Minhyung?” 

 

“What.” From his tone, it was clear that Minhyung  _ knew  _ that Jeno was going to say something  _ annoying.  _ And he wasn’t wrong.  Minhyung and his gut instinct. When has it ever been wrong. 

 

“Don’t be alarmed if the Queen ever asks you to join her for an afternoon tea. She kind of thinks that we’re embroiled in some sort of romantic affair.”

 

There was a few seconds of silence, when Minhyung was trying to make sense of Jeno’s words, only filled with the sound of some boots trudging on leaf-covered ground. Two boots, to be exact. And they weren’t just trudging, they were  _ running.  _ Knowing what Minhyung’s reaction would be to the summary of his meeting with his mother, Jeno grabbed Jisung by the arm and they both ran ahead of the just-getting-back-to-the-present boy. Leaving him behind with only the sound of their laughter echoing against the ancient tree trunks of the castle’s forest. 

 

“Romantic… affair…?! What in all hells are you talking about?! Jeno! Don’t run away from me you crazy,-”

 

Minhyung’s words were cut by him breaking off into a run to chase after treacherous friends. But if you are wondering, the word he was going to say was  _ ‘little shits’. Don’t run away from me you crazy little shits. _

  
  
  


_ _ _ _ _

  
  
  


Standing upon Renjun’s house under the dying light of day, Jeno realised that he indeed was living inside a hole in a wall. Last night he kept referring it as such only as a figure of speech. But now that he could see everything clearly, it _ indeed  _ was a hole.  _ A hole on a wall _ . 

 

Jeno didn’t notice it under all the chaos and panic that wrapped around his last visit, but the entrance of his little cheesemaker’s house was literally a circle carved into the surface of the brick wall. 

 

“Well this is a piece of junk,” Minhyung blurted out before Jeno could stop him from doing so. The boney corner of Jeno’s elbow hitting the ribs of his friend right when Minhyung finished his sentence, causing it to be capped with a sharp  _ ‘ow!’  _ and Jisung’s muffled snicker trailing soon after. 

 

He’d knocked on the wooden door that covered the circular entryway of the house approximately three separate times now, but nobody seemed to be there to open it. Jeno looked at the small boarded up window right beside the door where a poorly made sign saying  _ ‘Huang’s laundry. Sorry we are closed! Come again tomorrow’  _ was hung on a rusty nail and he contemplated that maybe he should’ve sent the notification, that he was going to visit with a few friends, earlier during the day. 

 

_ ‘Maybe they really are not home,’  _ he thought as he found himself worrying on his lower lip,  _ ‘goodness. Does this mean all that walking was for nothing?’  _ The three of them have travelled this far and Jeno did not want the day to end with him having to nurse two upset children (three including himself, of course) whose hearts were broken with overwhelming disappointment. 

 

“Where is he?” Jisung asked while trying to peek past Jeno’s shoulder. And he knew, if he told Jisung the truth, that he  _ didn’t know  _ where his new recruit was, then it would lead to nothing else but chaos. Or non-stop whining. Or snide, snarky remarks.

 

“Just wait for a little bit. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” In the end, Jeno decided that instead of indulging in a full fledge lie, he’d rather reply to Jisung’s question with a diplomatic answer. Because knowing Jisung, the repercussion of maybe having to explain himself at later times (and enduring numerous of his embittered jests) would be much more tedious than if he were to just softly dodge the question and pretend that nothing wrong ever happened. He could see Jisung was about to rebuke his explanation when the boy took one long inhale of a breath, but Jeno quickly silenced him telling him to read up on some cheesemaking facts so he could answer any and all questions that might be asked by their potential cheesemaker, and with one wave of his hand, all was silenced. 

 

But after they’ve waited for almost thirty minutes, it seemed to Jeno that he couldn’t keep stretching the inevitable. Also, Jisung has started to become agitated after he’d finished reading one of the book he brought from front to back, and an agitated, bored Jisung is  _ not _ a Jisung you want to be around for anything longer than a few minutes at a time.

 

When the kid had started prodding Minhyung’s arm with a piece of rotten plank of wood, Jeno knew it was a sign for him to really get going. 

 

He slowly stood from the stone steps with heavy heart, back facing the entrance of the alleyway, and readied himself to break the news to his friends. “Boys, I think we have to call it a day,” after letting out two awkward coughs, he finally was able to push those words off his mouth. The look on Minhyung and Jisung’s face was what he was expecting and it made his heart ache. Wide eyed shock and mouth opened as if they were about to let out a cautionary shout… wait.

 

Wide eyed shock? Cautionary shout? Fingers slowly raising up to point at a spot somewhere slightly to the right of his shoulders?

 

And just then he heard it. Maybe it was because his mind was so preoccupied by having to break such bad news to his friends that Jeno was not able to isolate the sound, of a wheelbarrow  _ barreling  _ down the slight decline of the street towards him, from all the chaos that was happening on the Inner City’s main street.

 

“MOVE MOVE MOVEMOVEMOVE!” The sound of a poorly padded wooden wheel rolling on the uneven surface of the cobbled road was accompanied by the now familiar panicked yell of a certain mouse of his. Minhyung and Jisung heed the warnings and swiftly jumped to the other side of the cramped entryway. Maybe it was because they could see the threat coming that they were able to respond as quick as they did. As for Jeno? The disadvantages that came from him not having any sight or prior awareness in regards of the incoming threat, caused his brain to only ordered his limbs to move when it was all but too late.

 

The front of the wheelbarrow struck him right at the back of his legs before he could even put one feet in front of the other, and suddenly gravity ceased to exist. He was expecting pain to come soon after his back hit the bottom of the wheelbarrow, but thankfully, a pile of what he guessed were sheepskin flasks caught his fall and in the end he felt nothing but… a sense of strange comfort lying there at the small basket. Feet dangling awkwardly over the mouth of the cart. 

 

When he’d gathered enough bearings and his eyes have stopped swimming against the inside of his lids, Jeno opened them and was met with the expanse of Lumina’s lightly clouded sky, painted pink and orange by the dusk. And also, at the upper corner of his sight, a very terrified looking Renjun.

 

“Hello again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))) 
> 
> so many fun cameos for the court life part (introducing Yeri as the pretty court flower that's loved by many)  
> (and Amber as Jeno's badass aunt LMAO)


	4. blue cheese

Turns out, Renjun _did_ get the letter on time. It was just that he already was asked by his mother to help her deliver some of the finished laundry pieces to their respective owner _before_ he could tell her that he was occupied.

 

“And you know, I can’t say no to her,” he explained, when all damages had been accounted for and all cargos, be it living or inanimate, had been transported from the wheelbarrow to its intended places. They then moved to the most spacious room in the house and were all now sitting around Renjun’s dining table, awkwardly cupping the clay cups that was filled with some sort of fermented rice drink without knowing what to do, or say, next. Jisung was anxiously tapping his nails on the wooden surface of the table, Minhyung was trying to retain his waning attention by meticulously inspecting the faded painting hanging crooked on the wall opposite him, and Renjun seemingly was attempting to furl himself into a ball from the amount of unforeseen discomfort that he had to go through in such a small window of time.

 

“I thought you’ll come alone,” Renjun whispered his concerns to Jeno earlier on, when he was helping the owner of the house move some of the sheepskin flasks to a crate in his kitchen.

 

“I’m pretty sure I wrote that I’ll be bringing my friends with me in my letter?”

 

There was a little pause afterwards, where Renjun looked at him with confusion on his face until suddenly it was lit up with bright realisation, “oh! So that word means _‘friend’_! I only skimmed through it thinking it might not be important.”

 

And that made Jeno mentally berate himself for ever forgetting that not everyone was blessed with an education as good as the one he got within the confines of his castle. He saw Renjun had started to look slightly upset for something completely out of his control, the grin on his lips slowly getting flipped into an _‘I’m disappointed with myself’_ pout, before Jeno patted him on his back and gave him some reassuring words,

 

“it’s fine, I promise they won’t cause you too many problem.”

 

But seeing the situation they were currently in, Jeno started to think that maybe his promise from earlier would only be realised halfway.

 

He sighed then, and clapped his hands together to gather the attention of all _three_ (the fact that he’s thinking the word three instead of two was still causing him such rush of excitement) of his club members, “I believe I haven’t introduced you to our newest recruit.”

 

“Finally.” He heard Minhyung mumble under his breath and Jeno could only roll his eyes in response to that. _‘If he wanted to get things going, why didn’t he take the initiative,’_ it would be a lie to say that he didn’t let a bit of irritation seep into his thought. If only he realised that it was because Minhyung knew that if he ever dare take the ‘leadership’ baton from Jeno, the prince would get even more annoyed than he already was. Because, ‘ _how dare he, I’m the rightful leader of this club,’_ right? Stuck between a rock and a hard place indeed.

 

“This, is Renjun,” Jeno breathed out, _after_ he breathed in deeply and allowed the air of Renjun’s house that smelled faintly of soap rinse the annoyance out of his system, “as I told you earlier, he’s a cheesemaker!”

 

With Minhyung and Jisung both waving their hand, in a way accepting the introduction, Jeno leaned in towards Renjun and whispered, “you can say hi to them if you want to.”

 

“Hi.”

 

Jeno felt like plopping his open palm on his forehead when Renjun, without hesitation, mind you, flashed them all a forceful grin and a quick broken wave of his hand, before retreating back into his imaginary shell.

 

Right after that, Minhyung grabbed Jeno by the sleeves of his blouse and dragged him closer so that his mouth was placed right by his ear, “are you sure this is the right person?”

 

“Are you seriously asking me that question,” Jeno said while pushing himself away from Minhyung, wiping the specks of saliva from his earlobe with one forceful swipe of his sleeve, “yes of course he is the right person!”

 

It seemed that his words escaped from him far louder than he ever intended them to be, as Jisung suddenly joined in their hushed discussion with an opinion of his own, “from the way you described him to us, I was imagining someone more… alive.”

 

 _‘Can he hear us?’_ Jeno wondered. Though one peek at Renjun showed nothing but stillness in his part. He was still sitting on the chair, still looking down on the floor, and still silently playing with the nails on his thumbs, _‘even if he did, what difference will it make anyway.’_

 

Jeno broke away from his group and went closer to the lone shadow, “maybe we can start by showing my friends a little bit of your cheese?” He was acting much like a homing pigeon between the new and old members of the club and Jeno didn’t know if it would be something he’ll enjoy doing in the future. It was then that he decided to make team-building his number one priority, because having the club be divided in two, one-half filled with camaraderie and one-half filled with crippling awkwardness is _not_ a healthy, sustainable dynamic for any kind of social structure.

 

“Yes, yes… good idea,” Renjun gave him a few rugged nods before he abruptly ceased all movement without any rhyme or reason and stared him up with a look tinted heavily in fear. Which was an odd thing, to say the least, because Jeno thought they’d went past being afraid of each other approximately twenty hours ago. “Are you sure they will like it?”

 

To Renjun’s whispered confession of insecurity, Jeno responded with a smile. A confident smile, a reassuring smile, “they will. I’m sure of it.”

 

Jeno knew his friends well. Okay, maybe not _that_ well. But at least he knew their _taste_ well enough to know that Renjun should have nothing to worry about.

 

Especially regarding Jisung. Because the kid loves anything funny. Be it _funny_ funny, or _weird_ funny, or _amusing_ funny, it was a well documented phenomenon that Jisung will take a quick liking to anything that can make him smile. And if Renjun’s chittery cheese was not able to make Jisung smile, Jeno didn’t know what else will.

 

Minhyung, on the other hand, was more of a wild card. Most of the time he likes what Jeno likes and hates what Jeno hates. But one day he came back to the archives after he had lunch and told Jeno that he might’ve developed a liking on those hack-job blue smelly cheese that looked and smelled like the furthest thing you should ever put into your mouth.

 

So when both of his friends’ eyes got turned into two pairs of round circles the size of tea saucers as they plow their way through the plate of chittery cheese cubes in record time, Jeno felt nothing else but gladness. And a tiny bit of pride? Maybe? Yes? Probably?

 

Because he took a quick peek at Renjun and Jeno couldn’t help but smile alongside him when he saw the boy, their very own _cheesemaker,_ trying so hard to cover up an excited grin with the edges of a wooden serving tray.

 

After the both of them finished their tasting platter, Minhyung went on and congratulated Renjun with a firm handshake, “this is marvelous!” He jumped out of his chair so quickly and so enthusiastically the poor, flimsy thing almost got flipped clean off its legs.

 

Renjun gave Jeno a worried glance after he heard Minhyung’s words. His eyes a sharp, panicked glare while his lips were pulled into a forceful smile.

 

 _‘What’s m… mar… mar-whatever that was?’_ The boy didn’t say anything, not even a peep, but Jeno swore those would’ve been the very words that Renjun would’ve whispered out if he was ever given a chance to speak.

 

“Means you did a really good job.” _An excellent job,_ Jeno would’ve liked to tag on a few extra words to his quick whisper. But when he saw Jisung barreling down onto them from his peripheral vision, not unlike Renjun’s wheelbarrow from earlier, Jeno had to take a quick one step backward to avoid being struck by the oncoming mass of flesh.

 

Unlike Renjun’s wheelbarrow, Jisung’s hug must’ve felt far less painful. Although, judging by the clear display of confusion on the boy’s expression, that event was no less disorienting than Jeno’s earlier collision. The crook on his face looked as if it was confused on whether it wanted to be a smile of a grimace.

 

“I love it! I love it so much, _it’s so funny._ ”

 

Before Renjun could ask Jisung _‘what’s so funny about my cheese and can funny even be considered as good thing?’_ , he was promptly dragged to the empty chair right beside Jisung’s and had scrolls of basic cheesemaking shoved right to his nose. The expression on Renjun’s face, a combination of one’s confusion and happiness that came as he was quickly being overwhelmed with a never ending bombardment of information, could be perfectly described in just one word.

 

“Adorable.” Minhyung leaned in and whispered it to Jeno’s ear, “now I understand why you were so adamant to have us meet him as soon as possible.”

 

If Jeno was not too preoccupied by him enjoying his own plate of Renjun’s chittery cheese, he would’ve responded back to Minhyung’s teasing with a little bit of scathing annoyance. But because Jeno _was_ distracted, his response only sounded as if his mind was trapped in a sepia-toned dreamland, “what are you trying to say.”

 

“ _Nothing_.”

 

“Nothing my ass,” Jeno grumbled under his breath. _‘I’m saying it to myself,’_ he thought, quickly scrambling to add an excuse for his poor behaviour. Because he didn’t refer the word to anyone in particular, Jeno decided to allow himself to say that one certain unsavoury word without having to feel any shame. As it happened, he watched Minhyung made his way around the table to approach the other half of their cheese restoration team. He gave Renjun’s shoulder a few soft taps and even that was enough to make the kid jump high enough on his seat it caused the chair to creak in protest. “May I borrow your recipe book so I can copy it?” Minhyung asked and Jeno was surprised when he saw that Renjun’s response to said question was to look at _him_ for confirmation.

 

“It’s your book, it’s up to you if you want to show him or not.”

 

Little did he knew, surprises were about to keep on coming because all of a sudden Jeno found Renjun pattering up to him in record speed and urgently whispered something to him as if his whole life depended on it,

 

“He will take care of it right?”

 

Jeno had to try his best to not break out in a gigglish laughter when he whispered back his reply, “with all his life.”

 

_“You swear?”_

 

 _“With all my_ _life.”_ Jeno caught Minhyung rolling his eyes in exasperation at the corner of his vision at this display of childish oath-giving, but he couldn’t care less, because in front of him Renjun was smiling so, _so brightly_ and Jeno could feel his heart literally stopping for a split second before it quickly scrambled away to catch up with its usual rhythm. He only ever felt that way when he had his first taste of the aged hard cheese back during his stay in the Grasslands.

 

“Okay then, I will lend it to him.”

 

With that, Renjun left the dining room and disappeared into the kitchen. Keeping in character with his innately erratic movements, the three guests of his house could clearly hear the rattle and prattle of chaos as they guessed that Renjun was taking out a whole cupboard of utensils to get his hand on the precious artefact. It was hard then for them to not stare at Renjun when the boy returned while holding the modest book in his hands. “Please take care of this,” Renjun said before he thrusted the book to Minhyung’s awaiting fingers, already itchy from all the waiting and anticipation.

 

“I will poison your portion of cheese if you did any damage to this book,” Renjun added an out-of-the-blue clause to his loan, a surprisingly macabre threat served with a side of lighthearted laughter. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal then, especially for the self proclaimed _‘man who was raised by wolves’_ Lee Minhyung himself. Shouldn’t even cause a scratch, yet alone a dent, on Minhyung’s cold as ice exterior.

 

But Jeno could clearly see how disturbed Minhyung was after he heard such dark words lilting out of an otherwise innocent, if not a bit pale and ratty, child. “You can trust me,” he replied, the smile on his face no longer looking as calm as it did before, “I’m the best scribe there ever was.”

 

To his reassurance, Renjun gave Minhyung one shy flash of a clearly friendly, I-didn’t-just-threatened-your-life kind of smile, before scurrying his way back to his seat beside a still enthusiastic Jisung.

 

Minhyung was silent when he returned to his own seat, but Jeno knew, from the way he let out that one forceful sigh, and the way he had to curl and unfurl his fingers several times before he was sure that they were stable enough to handle his fair handwriting, that Minhyung was in the very least shaken with his latest encounter with this _adorable_ mouse of theirs.

 

 _Theirs._ That thought seeped into Jeno’s mind so effortlessly and it brought a smile on his already bright face. A new addition to his small project of passion. How lovely. It was _so_ lovely, in fact, that Jeno opted not to take that glaring opportunity to give Minhyung his due for his earlier impolite behaviour against a Royal Employer of his. Instead, Jeno commanded the room with a single resonating clap of his hand and brought the attention of all _three_ members of his quaint Cheese Enthusiast club back to him.

 

“So! Has everyone caught on with their personal tasks?”

 

Jisung and Minhyung nodded their head in their own levels of enthusiasm. Renjun followed soon enough with a meeker version of Jisung’s sure nods, after he finished craning his neck around to see how the other two responded to Jeno’s vague question.

 

Thankfully, Jisung quickly caught on with his confusion and was kind enough to fill him with a short whisper to his ears, _‘you have to finish this theory book.’_ He then slightly slid the well-kept edition so that it sat closer to Renjun’s general vicinity, after which he audibly gulped his panic and mouthed a shivery _okay_ , much to Jisung’s proudness. Because that kid likes nothing more than people who would rise up to a challenge. Even if the challenge is akin to climbing the tallest mountain on the Land and the challenger is someone who just suffered from a broken femur.

 

“Renjun, when will your mother return?” Jeno directed his next question right on the still jittery kid and predictably received another silent, shocked yelp in return.

 

“I… in a while, I think?” Renjun answered, flicking his eyes to Jisung as if he was quietly asking, _‘he isn’t mad at me, right?’_  Because he’s never heard Jeno took up this authoritative mantle and just like any other commonfolks who didn’t grow up surrounded by regality, was understandably intimidated by it. The way Jisung patted his back should be enough to reassure him, but it took Renjun a knowing wink and a flash of Jeno's  _pedestrian_ smile before his fingers would stop shivering.

 

“Great. Would you please give me a detailed schedule for your mother’s daily errands by tomorrow’s sundown?”

 

“But, mama wouldn’t mind,-”

 

Jeno could hear to the left of him Minhyung letting out a wet snicker and a mocking repeat of what he must’ve thought as a word so unrefined it was hilariously amusing. But thankfully, before he could accidentally insult their new recruit with something so base as _the inability to empathise_ , Minhyung’s low laughter was abruptly turned into a pained yelp after he got a severe kick on his leg, courtesy to (the future) Royal Highness himself. To Minhyung’s betrayed glare, Jeno gave him an even more piercing look that screamed a venomous, _‘shut up.’_  

 

“Is there… anything wrong?”

 

“No, oh no,” Jeno said, with an outwardly amicable smile, of course, while underneath the table he went and gave poor Minhyung another kick on his shin, “please, continue.”

 

Renjun could only accept the peculiar scene unfolding in front of him with an unsure nod. Thinking that it was something that he, as a commonfolk, does not, and probably never will, understand. “Well, I don’t think m… mother would mind if you all hang around the house.”

 

Jeno one again shot a sharp glare at Minhyung when he heard his adorable cheese maker suddenly dropping the adorable moniker he assigned to reference his mother. But slow, thick skulled Minhyung only shrugged his shoulders in the face of Jeno’s poorly masked annoyance.

 

“I don’t mean this to undermine your generosity, but I have to be truthful. I’m afraid your mother might, even if only for the slightest, be against our plan. And I can’t afford to face anyone that might pose a risk to our plan.” Jeno continued, seamlessly changing his sour expression into something warm and reassuring when he turned his attention back to the only member of this club who seemingly has not grown too comfortable with his presence to dismiss his authority. Case in point: two years ago, Jisung wouldn’t have the audacity to laugh his heart out in front of his Crown Prince, yet alone doing what he did right then, which was rolling his eyes in such a blatant display of disrespect.

 

Although well… however hard it was for him to do so, Jeno had to admit that the casual way in which his peers, his _friends,_ addressed him was a much more preferable option than the rigid, suffocating greetings the court inhabitants would throw on his face with each of their polished bows.  

 

“What _is_ your plan, Your Grace,- I mean, Jeno uh,- Sir?”

 

“We! All of us! We…” there it was again, his _Pompous Fool of the South_ genetics kicking in with the dramatic pause that he took before he unleashed his true intention with one loud clap and a blinding grin that would’ve put a winter’s crescent moon to shame, “are going to make a wheel of _hard cheese_.”

 

The two older members of the group received the news in a predictable string of reactionary acts. Minhyung’s polite claps and Jisung jumping up from the chair and swirling Jeno around in a dizzying combination of an erratic twirl and small jumps, that was old custom. But what about their new recruit?

 

How did Renjun react to the big plan?

 

A smile. He did it with a smile. He had his eyes locked on the tattered cheese recipe book and the smile on his face was so wide his gums were showing. Red, just like his cheeks, which were quickly covered by his open palms when he plopped them over his face, as he let out a set of bubbly giggles that clearly conveyed his excitement.

 

Jeno wasn’t ready then, for Renjun to so suddenly pick his gaze up and gave him a thorough look. A look so _legitimate_ it could be categorised as some sort of a soft staredown, which was a rare thing for him, the quiet, demure member of the group, to do. His eyeballs weren’t shaking, his stare didn’t shift, and he for once didn’t seem to be fighting the silent whispers inside his brain that probably said of how inappropriate it is for him to stare at a ruling sovereign right on their eyes.

 

Renjun kept their eye contact long enough for his calmed smile to return back over his bright set of a toothy grin, long enough for Jisung to notice his stillness and decide to make him the next victim of his happiness. But before he was pulled from the dining chair and taken for a round of Jisung’s brand of a boisterous spin, Jeno was still able to catch him mouthing something.

 

A quick _thank you._

 

Maybe, if he was give more time to say it, Renjun would’ve said _thank you for giving me the chance to take a step closer to who my father was,_ or probably something more attuned to his commonspeak vocabulary.

 

But even that short _thank you_ was enough to make Jeno feel, for the first time in his life, as if the sun has just rose inside him.

 

 

_ _ _

 

 

 

All three of them arrived back at the castle _just_ when the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. With a full stomach and a clear sense of direction, Jeno felt like he was standing at the castle’s highest balustrade overlooking the calm humdrum of the castle's courtyard in a peaceful morning. Untouchable. Invincible. Safe.

 

And so he foolishly surrounded themselves in a light air of mindless chatter as they walked back to the protection of the castle’s inner walls through the aviary. It wasn’t until he saw the clear panic on Minhyung’s face, and when Jisung suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence, that Jeno realised that something was wrong.

 

_Very, very wrong._

 

“The Queen would be terribly upset if you failed to make it to supper, Your Grace.”

 

There, standing so motionlessly at the corner of the corridor Jeno would’ve mistaken her for another one of the castle’s countless marble statue if not for her billowing gold gown, was the young Lady Kim herself.

 

“Oh! Good evening my lady.” Jeno, lucky for him, had the notion of _when in a sticky situation, resort to a calm and courteous demeanor_ beaten to his brain even before he was old enough to tell what _is_ a sticky situation and what isn’t. And so, even though his vision was starting to blur from how loud and quick his heart was beating, Jeno could still greet the fairly unamused-looking Lady Kim with a respectable smile on his lips.

 

“I see that Your Grace has… redecorated.” She said, in the special tone that courtly ladies would adopt when they’re trying to ever so discreetly point out an insulting fashion faux pas, while giving Jeno a thorough head-to-toe inspection. If only eyes could speak, hers would’ve muttered out, _‘what a tragedy.’_

 

“Oh this? This is nothing,” Jeno said with a polite smile, although every little fibre of his _‘human being’_ self was straining to let out an awkward laugh. Because he would’ve done everything to get themselves away from this pinch. But how? He didn’t know how. As a Prince, as a boy, as a human, _he didn’t know how._ And so he resorted back to the only thing he knew he could trust in this kind of situation. Light conversation. “I’ve been trying to observe the Land more closely lately, which explains my strange garb. But what are you doing here Lady Kim? The aviary isn't a place for a nice,-”

 

“Oh, let's just stop this masquerade, shall we?"

 

"P… pardon?"

 

She then propelled herself from her spot by the pillar, and walked towards the terrified three so rapidly that by the time she was standing in front of Jeno in his full pauper glory, he could feel Minhyung and Jisung were visibly shaking and were trying their best to hide themselves behind the protection of his small back.

 

"I don't get it my lady." He said, staring at little Lady Kim's confusing gesture of offering him her empty, open palm.

 

"Cheese. Where." She mumbled through a thin-lipped grimace, as if the act of demanding was something she was so not used to doing. But the way that she was tapping her foot impatiently, and how her free hand was anxiously rolling through the fair fabric of her gown, Jeno understood. Her shifting gaze did not help hide her true desire at all.

 

Jeno instantly understood. Little Lady Kim right here was suffering through a nasty episode of cheese withdrawal.

 

It seemed as if this would be a familiar crimson thread that would tie around him and any encounters that involves cheese-loving people that are forward with their passion. Instant disregard of safety precaution and his curiosity taking a complete takeover of any higher brain functions. Because the next thing he did, instead of probably asking around the elephant in the room with a degree of caution as she could perfectly just be acting on his mother’s behalf (who’s somehow caught on with his lies and unearthed the true truth), was to trust her completely with all his heart and soul. Jeno excitedly went on and clasped her upturned hand, uncaring of the little flinch she did when she felt all the dirt and grime speckled all around his palm, before giving her a promise so heartfelt any knight would be jealous.

 

“I don’t have it currently, my lady, though best believe I’m trying as hard as I could to bring a change to this awful condition. You have my word.”

 

This naivety of his might come back to bite his posterior clean off his lower half on a later date. But for now, Jeno was just too elated to find another high ranking comrade on his mission to bring back cheese to the central ruling city of Lumina, to care whether or not Lady Kim was really, truly an ally to his cheese-lover side.

 

“Fine,” she hissed the word with disdain. She didn't even bother to hide the trail of behaviour that hinted to her belief that confessing her love for cheese was a criminal act equivalent to adultery, before she pulled her hand away from Jeno’s dirty set and whirled herself to the opposite direction of the trio, “I don’t think I can handle this nonsense any longer.”

 

But before she could put too much of a distance between them, Jeno called out to her and asked, “how did you find out my lady?”

 

Lady Kim halted her escape with a sharp, resonating clack of her kitten-heeled sandals. She turned, only slightly, only so that the three mesmerised boys could see the wispy tips of her eyelash glinting against the blazing torches on the stone walls of the castle, before she decorated her face with a casual smile, the kindest thing she’s done to them from all two encounters that they had, really, and said, “sirs, I do hope you know that boys are always the worst at hiding things, right?

 

Hearing no answer from the dumbfounded bunch, Lady Kim picked up the train of her gown and began to ascend the stairs that would led her directly to the entrance of the East wing of the castle. But just before she completely disappeared, she rushed back down and allowed the three of them one last view of her face. A free expression, something that closely resembled an embarrassed grin, was posted on it. Something that all of them rarely see on a courtly grace like her, “from now on, call me Yerim, please. Lady Kim makes me sound… ancient.”

 

And gone was she.

 

After a good solid minute of silence and dumbfoundment, a whispery question was heard echoing through the empty stone corridor,

 

“Are we in trouble?” Jisung asked it in a way that Jeno never heard, and thought would never _ever_ heard, coming from the careless daredevil of the group. It was the certain kind of fear that would only come from a place of uncertainty, and gods help him, if Jisung was uncertain, then the rest of the group would've been left walking around blind, deaf, and mute. Though weirdly, at that rare moment, Jeno was sure they were living in a mirror universe, where Jisung was the one confusedly clinging on the rough fabric of his straw blouse, while he was the one standing tall with the feeling of power and confidence rushing strongly through his bloodstream. 

 

He then hoped, from how sure his answer sounded when he gave it to his companions, that both Jisung and Minhyung would quickly adopt and understand the brilliant realisation that he just had. He turned around and smiled one of those sure smiles that would always be accompanied by the grand gesture of hands-on-hips and a puffed chest. If he has plumes, like those magnificent peacocks that his mother loves so much, Jeno would’ve surely rattle them too.

 

“Strangely enough… I don’t think we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know... i know it's been a while (almost a year even skdjfsndjfk time is a cruel mistress)  
> But! I finally know where to take this story in an interesting direction so I will try to keep this thing updated regularly (emphasise on the word /will/ please)
> 
> while we wait for my sporadic uploads, hmu @ my twitter [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil) ~


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